B r o k e n   T r u s t
by J. B. Tilton
Summary: When a gun is turned into the police department it's identified as the murder weapon in a cold case dating back 1983.  The team reopens the case in the hopes of tracking down the murderer.
1. Chapter 1

COLD CASE

Broken Trust

By J. B. Tilton (a.k.a. NoAzMale) and Teri Thibeault (a.k.a. Tessalynne)

Emails:

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Rating: K

Disclaimer: "Cold Case" and all related characters and events are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer and the CBS Corporation, except for those characters specifically created for this story. This is a work of fan fiction and no infringement of copyright is intended.

(Authors' note: This story takes place between season 1 episodes "Fly Away" and "Sherry Darlin'".)

When a gun is turned into the police department it's identified as the murder weapon in a cold case dating back 1983. The team reopens the case in the hopes of tracking down the murderer.

PROLOGUE

March 11, 1983, 2:37 p.m.

Bruce Campbell sat looking at the report Dr. Hagnell has just given him. He didn't understand most of it but the results were undeniable. A full blown case of AIDS.

"You're sure there hasn't been any mistake?" Campbell asked.

"I'm afraid not," said Dr. Hagnell. "I had the tests redone just to make sure. There's no mistake. You have AIDS."

"What are my options?"

"Right now, there aren't many. This disease is just too new, Bruce. We have some treatments that are promising but right now I'm afraid there isn't much we can do about it. I can prescribe some medications that should help with the symptoms. And there are some treatments that might help prolong your life. That's the best we can do right now."

"How long?"

Hagnell had heard that question a thousand times. It was always the first questions his patients asked. How long did they have to live?

"Six months, maybe a year," he replied after a moment. "With the treatment we might be able to extend that some. And we can make you as comfortable as possible."

"Six months," Campbell replied with resignation. "That's not very long."

"Bruce, they're doing research into this right now. It's only a matter of time before they come up with better treatments. Medical science is always coming up with new treatments and even cures. Look at cancer. Fifteen, even ten years ago people died from some forms of cancer that can be effectively treated today."

"Ten years," Campbell repeated. "You just told me I had six months. I don't have ten years, Doc. I've read about AIDS in the paper. I know what it does. Even if they do come up with some kind of treatment it will most likely be too late to help me."

"You can't give up hope, Bruce. As I said, there are treatments we can try. I might even be able to get you into an experimental program. Any hope is better than no hope."

"What can I expect? As the disease progresses?"

"That's difficult to say. It can be different with each patient. I'll have to monitor you closely for any change in your condition. Any change and we'll treat it immediately."

"My insurance won't pay for this. I've disallowed many policies because of AIDS. It's just not covered by most insurance policies."

"Well, we'll keep this under wraps as long as possible. At this point the law doesn't require me to report any cases of AIDS I come across. I can treat any symptoms you have as separate ailments and bill your insurance company that way. That should help some."

"Thanks, Doc. I appreciate everything you've done."

"Make an appointment with my secretary for your next examination. I'll want you to come in for regular checkups so we can keep a handle on this. And if I learn of anything that might help I'll let you know immediately. You never know. It's possible they could come up with a cure next week or next month. And it's also possible you could go into remission. And as I said they're doing research all the time. That research could very possibly yield some very productive results."

"Maybe. I'll need to check my schedule before I make my next appointment. I'll check my schedule and call your office in a day or two."

"Just don't wait too long. The sooner we get started on treatment the better your chances."

Campbell got left the doctor's office and got into his car. As he drove home he began to think about the plans he would have to make. Six months wasn't very long. He had a lot to do and not much time to do it in.

March 24, 1983, 8:42 p.m.

The patrolman walked over to the coroner who was currently examining a body lying in the middle of a park. Several other officers were in the park as well looking for any evidence that might be around.

"The detectives will be here soon," said the patrolman. "They'll want a full report when they get here. What have you got for me?"

"Well," replied the coroner, "I can tell you TID is less than an hour ago. Rigor hasn't set in yet and the body temp hasn't dropped yet so my guess is he died about 8:00 o'clock: maybe a little earlier. COD looks like a single gunshot to the right temple. I don't see an exit wound so the slug must still be in his skull."

"Any other marks on the body?"

"None that I can see here. I'll be able to tell you more once I get him on the table but I have to say this looks like as straightforward murder. There are powder burns around the entry wound so whoever did this put the muzzle of the gun against his head and pulled the trigger."

"You're sure it was murder?" the patrolman asked.

"Did you find a weapon near the body?"

"No, nothing. Just the body."

"Well there you go, patrolman. If this had been suicide the gun would have dropped on the ground next to the body."

"What about accidental?"

"Someone accidentally put a gun to this man's head and then accidentally pulled the trigger? I don't think so. No, whoever did this did it deliberately. Maybe a drug buy gone bad or a simple mugging. Can't tell from the body. All I can tell you right now is that this man was deliberately executed. I'll have more after the autopsy."

"Thanks, Doc. I'll let the detectives when they get here."

"What did he say?" asked another patrolman as the first patrolman walked toward him writing notes into his notebook.

"He said the guy was murdered. Someone put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger."

"We haven't found any gun."

"I know. We'll turn it over to the detectives when they get here. It's there problem now."

As they looked up they noticed an unmarked car pull to the curb of the park. Two men dressed in suits got out and looked around, and then began to walk toward the two patrolmen. The first patrolman opened his notebook to give the detectives a thorough report on the situation.

ONE

December 4, 2003

As Stillman came into the squad room he was apparently engrossed in some papers he was holding in his hand. Lilly and Scotty were talking at their desks and looked up as Stillman passed the desks.

"Morning, boss," said Lilly, smiling her smile at him.

"Hmm," Stillman barely grunted as he headed for his office.

Lilly looked at Scotty and then over at Nick. Nick was currently at the filing cabinet filing some papers and he had a look of surprise on his face as he glanced up toward Stillman's office. Lilly looked over at Will who was filling out a report.

"I guess he got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," said Scotty.

"Maybe," said Will. He stood up and began to walk toward Stillman's office. "Looks like he has something on his mind."

"Must be something serious," said Nick. "I've never seen him like that before."

Will knocked on the open door to Stillman's office and Stillman looked up from his desk and the papers he was looking at. Will walked in and sat down in a chair opposite Stillman's desk.

"You were a little abrupt with Lilly, weren't you?" Will asked.

"What?" Stillman questioned absentmindedly. "Oh, yeah, I guess I was. Guess I should go apologize to her."

"John, we've known each other a long time. I can tell when something is bothering you. It's not like you to practically ignore people, especially people you work with."

"I know, Will. I'm sorry. I just have something on my mind, that's all."

"Care to share? Maybe it's something I can help with."

"Not this time, old friend," said Stillman, handing a paper to Will. "Thaddeus Fischer."

"Fischer?" questioned Will, looking at the paper the lieutenant had handed him. "That killer you helped put away in 1978?"

"One and the same. I got the notification this morning when I came in. You can read it right there for yourself. He's been granted parole."

"Parole? I thought he was sent up for life?"

"Twenty-five to life. Apparently he got parole his first time up."

"Didn't he threaten to kill everyone who helped send him to prison?"

"Yeah, he did. He personally threatened the judge, the district attorney, and me. I was the one who provided the most damning testimony against him. The jury said afterwards it was based on my testimony that they convicted him."

"Well, no wonder you're preoccupied. That's enough to rattle everyone. But it has been 25 years, John. People change especially after that many years."

"Maybe," said Stillman. "But he was pretty angry during and after the trial. He swore if it took him the rest of his life he'd get us. You know I'm not one to run scared, Will. But Fischer was not like any criminal I ever arrested. He showed absolutely no guilt or remorse during the trial or after. The bailiffs had to drag him out of the court after his conviction."

"It doesn't say when he's getting released," said Will, looking the paper over.

"I made a couple of phone calls. They said it would be a couple of days before the paperwork is finished and then he'd be released. If he comes here looking for me with you and the others here someone could get hurt. Or worse."

"It's a building full of cops, John. I don't think even Fischer is stupid enough to try anything here. But as a precaution I'll let the officer at the front desk know what's going on and I'll make sure they have a picture of Fischer. Don't worry, John. If Fischer comes here looking for trouble we'll be sure to stop him before he can do anything."

"Thanks, Will. I appreciate it. They're going to call me when he's actually released. I think we should also make sure that the DA and judge on that case has some police protection. In case he tries to make good on his threat to them."

"I'll take care of it, John. In the mean time just take it easy. Fischer isn't out yet. And you'll know when he is. You've got some good people out here. They'll make sure that he doesn't try anything."

"Thanks again, Will. Well, I suppose I should get back to work. Want to get some lunch later?"

"Sure thing."

Will left the office and went back out to the squad room. Stillman picked up a file on his desk and went to work on the paperwork that always seemed to be piling up on his desk.

Nearly an hour later Lilly came into his office. Stillman looked up from the paperwork he was working on. Lilly wasn't alone. She had a uniformed officer with her.

"Oh, Lilly," said Stillman, self-consciously. "About earlier. . . ."

"No need to explain, boss," said Lilly. "Will explained it all to us. Can't say I blame you much. I'd probably be preoccupied if I had someone gunning for me, too."

"What have you got?" Stillman asked, trying to change the subject.

"This is Officer Porter. He works in the property office. He's brought us something interesting."

"Officer Porter."

"Lieutenant. I work in weapons disposal. A few days ago we had a pistol turned into us. A young woman in her late 20s said she found it when she was going through her mother's things. She didn't want it around and wasn't sure what to do with it so she turned it in to us."

"I see," said Stillman. "Go on."

"Well, as you are aware, we always check the weapons to make sure they're legitimate and such. We run the serial number, ballistics check, that sort of thing. When I ran this one something interesting popped up. I'd heard around that you were running cold cases so I thought I should bring it to your attention."

"This gun have a connection to a cold case?" Stillman asked.

"Bruce Campbell," said Lilly, handing a sheet of paper to Stillman. "When Officer Porter told me about the case I ran it through the computer. Mr. Campbell was found murdered in Fairmont Park in 1983. The doer was never identified and the case went cold real fast. According to the ballistics report, this is the same gun that killed Campbell."

"You have the name of the woman who turned the gun in?" Stillman asked.

"Of course," said Porter, handing Stillman another piece of paper. "Standard procedure. There's another thing, Lieutenant. While we were running the tests on the gun we found something else. Maybe I should have gone to Internal Affairs with it but I really wasn't sure what to do."

"What is it, officer?"

"Well, the pistol itself was relatively clean. We only found two sets of prints on it. Presumably one belonged to the woman who turned it in. The other set of prints belonged to the officer she turned it into. The bullets in the gun were a different matter. We ran the prints and that's what came up."

Stillman looked at the report. According to the report the fingerprints on the bullets inside the gun belonged to Leonard Blessant. And records indicated that Blessant was a sergeant with the Philadelphia Police Department.

"Are you saying that a sergeant with the Philly PD was the doer?" Stillman asked.

"I don't know, sir," said Porter. "All I know is that his prints were on the bullets that were in the gun. Like I said, maybe I should have gone to Internal Affairs. But I'd had hate to jam up another cop on some unfounded evidence."

"You did the right thing, Officer Porter," said Stillman. "There could be any number of reasons why Sergeant Blessant's prints were on the bullets. We'll look into it. I appreciate you bringing this to our attention."

"Thank you, sir," said Porter. "Can you let me know what comes of it? I'd like to know that I made the right decision."

"We will," said Stillman. "We'll need all the information you have to conduct our investigation."

"He's all ready provided us with everything he has," said Lilly. "Nick is running it through the computer now. And Scotty has all ready gone down to the archives to see what's down there."

"Okay," said Stillman. "Let me know what you find out. We'll see if there's anywhere to go with this thing."

Lilly just smiled as she and Officer Porter left Stillman's office.


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

"Well, it seems pretty straight forward," said Lilly as the team went through the box of evidence Scotty had brought up from the archives. "Campbell was found in the park at about 8:30 pm. On March 24, 1983 with a single gunshot wound to the head. The weapon was a .38 caliber pistol. No weapon was found at the scene and the coroner ruled it a homicide."

"Says here," said Nick, "the investigating detectives figured it was a drug deal gone bad or possibly a mugging. They had no leads and no suspects. The case went cold almost from day one."

"It also says that Campbell was an insurance adjuster for the Angleton Insurance Company," said Will. "That must have garnered him a few enemies. Investigating insurance claims and denying ones that didn't adhere to the policies. I'll bet he had quite a number of people angry at him."

"Maybe," said Stillman. "Maybe even enough to kill over. If an insurance policy was large enough someone might have been driven to murder. Retribution for being denied a claim."

"Well, the insurance company should have a list of policies Campbell was involved with," said Lilly. "That might give us a clue where to start."

"Don't forget about Sergeant Blessant," said Stillman. "He has to explain how his prints got on the bullets that were in that gun."

"I checked on him," said Nick. "Nothing irregular in his file. He's been decorated a couple of times by the department. But no indication he was involved in anything suspicious. Divorced with a couple of kids but his record is pretty clean."

"That doesn't mean he didn't kill Campbell," said Will. "Could be he had a beef with Campbell and it got out of hand."

"So why does the gun turn up now?" Scotty asked. "And how did Lillian Compose's mother end up with it?"

"Those are very good questions," said Stillman. "Lilly, you and Scotty check out Compose. See what she has to say. Will and Nick can talk to Sergeant Blessant and see if he can explain how his prints got on the bullets in that gun."

"What about the wife?" Lilly questioned, looking over some more papers in the box. "Lenore Campbell. Says here Bruce Campbell had a life insurance policy worth $500,000.00. And his wife was the sole beneficiary."

"You think his wife might have killed him for the money?" Stillman asked.

"Half a million is a lot of money," said Lilly. "Could be she wanted out of the marriage and decided to collect on the insurance to boot."

"It says here that the wife was cleared," said Scotty. "She was home when Campbell was killed."

"A twenty year old case," said Lilly. "Maybe her alibi isn't as sturdy now as it was then."

"Let's see if we can track down the gun first," said Stillman. "I'll run a check on it and see where it leads. If we can find out who had the gun between the time it was manufactured and it was used to kill Campbell in '83 we might just find our killer."

"Well, we have Lillian Compose's address," said Lilly. "Officer Porter got it when she turned the gun in. We'll start there."

"I'll find out where Sergeant Blessant is," said Will. "We'll go question him right away."

"Let's get on it," said Stillman. "Let me know what you find out."

The four detectives left the squad room to pursue their respective leads.

"Ms. Compose, we're investigating the pistol you turned into the police department the other day," explained Lilly to the woman. "We were wondering if we might speak to your mother about where she got it."

Lillian Compose was an average looking woman of 27 years. She lived in a modest two-story home and apparently was not married. Lilly and Scotty noticed several boxes partially filled with a variety of items sitting around the living room.

"That would be difficult, Detective Rush," said Compose. "You see my mother has been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. I'm afraid that most of the time she's not very lucid. That's what all this is," she indicated the boxes. "My brother and I had to commit her to a facility that deals specifically with Alzheimer's patients. We just aren't capable of providing the necessary care she requires."

"I'm sorry," said Lilly. "We weren't aware of that."

"It's been difficult but we're adjusting. I'll be glad to help you in any way I can, though."

"Do you know where you mother got the gun?" Scotty asked.

"Not really. I didn't even know she had a gun until I found it packed away in a box in the closet. I don't like guns and didn't know what to do with it. I figured turning it into the police was the best option. You haven't told me why you're investigating it."

"It seems it was used to murder a man in 1983," said Lilly.

"Surely you don't think my mother had anything to do with a murder?" questioned the woman. "I don't think my mother would be capable of killing anyone."

"At this point we're just trying to ascertain where the gun came from," said Lilly. "The detectives on the case theorized that it might have been a drug buy that went bad or possibly a mugging."

"Well, my mother would never have been involved in anything as sordid as that. She hated to take even aspirin for a headache. And in 1983 I think we were living in Chicago. Let's see, I would have been about 6 and my brother would have been 4. My father was working for a manufacturing company back then. We didn't move to Philadelphia until 1987."

"Could the gun have been your father's?" Scotty asked.

"I suppose. He never mentioned a gun. Neither did my mother for that matter. They divorced in 1992. I imagine if it was his he would have taken it with him when he moved back to Chicago after their divorce."

"Does the name Bruce Campbell mean anything to you?" Lilly asked.

"Not really. Just the actor. But other than that the name isn't familiar and I don't recall my mother ever mentioning anyone by that name."

"Why do you think you mother might have had the gun in the first place?" Lilly asked.

"I suppose it could have been because of Richard Keller. He and my mother dated for a while. Let me think. That was about 1997 or '98. But he turned out to be abusive so my mother broke it off with him. Only he wouldn't take no for an answer. He started stalking her. She even went to police about it but they said unless he actually did something there wasn't much they could do about it."

"She was afraid of this Keller?" Scotty asked.

"As I said, he turned out to be abusive. He hit mom a couple of times. He even hit me once. That's when mom broke it off. I was about 20 or so at the time and was home from college on break. He didn't like something I said and he slapped me. Mom told him to get out and never come back."

"Did you file a police report?" Scotty asked.

"I suppose I should have but, no, I didn't. Mom said she didn't want to have anything more to do with him so I just let it drop. Then a few weeks later she noticed him following her. And I saw his car parked down the street a couple of times. That's when she went to the police."

"And they said they couldn't do anything about it?" questioned Lilly.

"He hadn't actually done anything," said Lillian. "They said that driving down the same street or being parked near the house didn't constitute a crime. I do remember that a police car cruised through the neighborhood a few times after that. I just assumed they were keeping an eye on the place in case he tried anything."

"Do you have any idea what happened to Keller?" Scotty asked.

"I read in the paper that he had been involved in an auto accident in late '99 or early 2000. Apparently he was killed on impact. Obviously after that we didn't have any more trouble out of him."

"So you think your mom might have gotten the gun for protection against Keller?" Lilly asked.

"I suppose it's possible. But I don't really think so. Mom doesn't like guns anymore than I do. Before I found it in the closet I would never have believed she'd even own a gun."

"Our records indicate that she was never issued a permit for a gun," said Lilly. "And there's no record of her buying one. At least, not legitimately. Any idea where she might have gotten it?"

"None whatsoever. After the divorce she went to work as a legal secretary for a local law firm. She was always very insistent that we obey the law. I can't believe she'd buy an illegal gun even for protection. That just wasn't like her."

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Compose," said Lilly. "We appreciate your taking the time to talk with us."

"I hope I've been of some help. The next time mom appears to be lucid I'll ask her about the gun. But I wouldn't hold out any hope. She seems to get worse every day. Even if she's lucid I'm not sure she'd remember anything."

"That's fine," said Scotty. He handed her his card. "If you think of anything else please give us a call."

"I will," Compose promised.

"Well, that was a dead end," said Scotty as he and Lilly walked to the car.

"Maybe not," said Lilly. "She said her mom might have gotten the gun to protect herself against this Richard Keller. And that her mom worked for a lawyer. Lawyers represent all sorts of people, including people that sell illegal firearms."

"You think her mom might have bought the gun off a client?"

"Maybe. We should run Keller through the computer and see what comes up."

"What do you want to do now?"

"Let's go talk to the widow, Lenore Campbell. Maybe she can shed some light on why her husband was in the park that day. If we knew why he had gone there it might tell us who might have wanted him dead."

"I'll drive," said Scotty holding his hand out for the car keys.

Lilly just smiled for a moment and then handed the keys to him. He was her new partner and she decided that he should do some of the driving. They got into the car and Scotty headed for the address they had on Lenore Campbell.


	3. Chapter 3

THREE

Leonard Blessant looked like any typical cop on the street. At nearly 50 he was still somewhat lean. Of course, working the streets as he did he had to stay in shape. He was slightly balding and he and his partner were currently having lunch at one of the many fast food restaurants on their route. They were laughing at something as Will and Nick approached them.

"Sergeant Leonard Blessant?" Will asked, showing his police badge.

"Yes?" questioned Blessant, glancing at the badge. "What can I do for you, detective?"

"I'm Will Jeffries. This is Nick Vera. We'd like to talk to you for a moment."

"I'll meet you at the car, Leo," said the other officer. "Think I'll hit the head before we head back out. Detectives."

"What's this about?" questioned Blessant. "Are you following up on one of my cases?"

"Not exactly," said Nick. "We'd like to know what you know about a gun. A .38 that belonged to Morena Compose."

"Morena? Is she in some kind of trouble? I haven't seen her in about 3 years. We dated for a while but then she broke it off."

"Why is that?" Will asked.

"Usual story I guess. Every time I went to work or got a call she'd get real tense. Finally said she couldn't take not knowing if I was going to come home at night or not. I've kind of gotten used to it. My wife left for the same reason. Can't really say I blame them much. It can't be easy living with one of us."

"I hear that," said Nick. "So, about the gun. What do you know about it?"

"Don't know what to tell you, detective. As far as I know she didn't own a gun. At least not while we were dating."

"Then care to explain how your prints got on the bullets the gun was loaded with?" Will asked. "Compose's daughter found it and turned it in a few days ago. They found your prints on the shells inside the gun while they were running it."

"Oh," said Blessant guiltily. "I guess that does kind of change things. Okay, look, I gave Morena the gun back in '98. She was having some trouble with an old boyfriend. Said he was violent and had hit her and her daughter. I checked into it but there wasn't anything I could do about it. The guy hadn't broken any laws.

"But she was so terrified of him that I gave her the gun for protection. I even had a couple of buddies cruise through her neighbor a few times a week to keep an eye on her. Turns out it was all for nothing. The old boyfriend got killed in early 2000 in a head on collision with a semi. I'd forgotten all about the gun. Then when we broke up I just never thought to get it back."

"Where did you get the gun?" Nick asked.

"What's this about? The gun was clean. I ran it before I gave it to her. There was nothing in the records to indicate it wasn't."

"It's got a body on it," said Will. "Bruce Campbell was murdered with it in 1983. Until Compose's daughter brought it in there was no connection between it and Campbell's murder."

"A murder?" questioned Blessant in genuine surprise. "Look, detectives, I know I should have turned the gun in. Some kid brought it to me when we started having those amnesty programs right after Columbine. You know. People can turn in a gun to the police, no questions asked.

"But like I said, I ran the serial number through the system and it came up clean. That was in '99. There was nothing attached to the gun. I was afraid Morena's old boyfriend might to hurt her again and I couldn't be there all the time. So I gave her the gun, showed her how to use it, and told her not to use it except in an emergency."

"You didn't turn the gun in?" questioned Will. "That's department policy, you know that."

"Yeah, I know. But I also knew that Morena would never qualify for a gun permit. She just didn't have sufficient reason to be given one. And if her ex showed up unannounced one night she could have been dead before a unit got there. I just thought I was helping her out, that's all."

"This kid," said Nick. "Remember who he was?"

"Not off hand. But I did write his name down in my book. It's at home. I can get it for you. I do remember I gave the kid $25.00 for the gun. Honestly, detectives, if I had known the gun had a body on it I would have been the first one to turn it in. I would never have given it to someone else."

"Let's go get that name," said Nick. "Tell your partner you'll catch up with him in a bit."

"What do you think?" Nick asked as Blessant went to tell his partner. "Think he's telling the truth?"

"Maybe," said Will. "He was pretty forthcoming with the information we wanted."

"Yeah, once we caught him in a lie."

"Do you blame him? Something like that can ruin a cop's career. You said his sheet was clean?"

"Pretty much. A couple of complaints but nothing unusual. I've known good cops with a lot more complaints. And there's no indication he's dirty in any way. Sounds to me like it was just bad judgment on his part."

"Okay, I don't live far from here," said Blessant returning to the two detectives. "I can have that name for you very soon."

"Let's go," said Will. "We'll drop you off with your partner when we're done."

"About this," said Blessant as they drove to his house, "is it really necessary to let my lieutenant know about it? I know it was a dumb thing to do. But I retire in 2 years. I've been a good cop my whole career. I'd hate to get jammed up over this."

"You did violate department procedure," said Will. "That gun could have ended up in the wrong hands and had more bodies attached to it. There's a reason why any guns turned in by the public have to be processed."

"I know that. And like I said, it was a dumb thing to do. But it's the only time I've ever done anything like that. I was just so concerned for Morena. I thought I was helping her."

"Well," said Nick, glancing at Will. Will just nodded once. "It will be up to our lieutenant what happens with this. This is a murder investigation and being a cop doesn't get you any special treatment. But as long as you're straight with us – and assuming you aren't involved in this murder – we'll let the lieutenant know that. He's a pretty decent guy."

"I appreciate it," said Blessant. "I'll tell you whatever you need to know. And I'll tell you right now I've never been involved in any murder other than in my official capacity. Just tell me what you want to know. I'll be completely straight with you."

They drove to Blessant's home and he got the name out of one of his notebook. The boy who had turned it in was Levy Segal. He had been 15 years old and his story was that he had simply found the gun lying in his yard one day. He'd heard about the amnesty program the police were running and figured it was an easy way to make some money. So Blessant had given the kid $25.00 and had never seen him again. When they were finished with Blessant they dropped him off with his partner and headed back to the squad room.

"What do you think he told his partner?" Nick asked as they headed for headquarters.

"Don't know, don't care," said Will. "We'll need to check his story when we get back. Make sure he didn't leave anything out. Once we do that we'll let John know what we found out."


	4. Chapter 4

FOUR

The address Lilly and Scotty had for Lenore Campbell was in the northern portion of Philadelphia. It was a considerable distance from where Bruce Campbell's body had been found and they both wondered why he had been so far away from home at that time of night.

The young woman who answered the door was obviously not Lenore Campbell. She was barely 30 years old but was elegantly dressed and the furnishings for the home testified that she had a comfortable income. She invited the two detectives in and introduced herself as Alexandra Campbell: Lenore's daughter.

"What can I do for you, detectives?" Alexandra asked.

"We were actually hoping to speak to your mother," said Scotty.

"I'm sorry. My mother passed away about 3 years ago. She had ovarian cancer and there was nothing the doctors could do for her."

"We're sorry for your loss," said Lilly, uncomfortably. "We're here about your father's death."

"My father was murdered in 1983. They never caught the man who did it. Why are you looking into his murder now? The detectives told my mother that without any leads there really wasn't much they could do about it."

"We've recently got a new lead in the case," said Lilly. "The gun that was used to kill your father recently turned up. We're hoping it might lead us to whoever murdered your father. We were also hoping you mother might be able to give us some information about that night."

"Well, as I said, my mother passed away 3 years ago. I was only 8 when my father died and my brother was 5. I'll be glad to help in any way I can but I'm not sure what help I can be."

"We appreciate it," said Scotty. "Can you tell us why your father was in Fairmont Park the night he died?"

"I really don't know. I do remember him telling my mother that he had an errand to run and that he shouldn't be gone long. That was about, oh, 5:30 or 6:00 as I recall. Later the police arrived to tell us they had found him. My mother and I talked about it a few times over the years but she didn't seem to know why he had gone there."

"Did you mother know of anyone who might want to harm your father?" Lilly asked.

"She did mention that just before his death he talked about some threats he had gotten at work. As far as I know nothing ever came of those threats. She said he went to police about them, on advice from his boss, but they were never able to track down who sent them."

"Your father was an insurance adjuster, wasn't he?" Lilly asked.

"That's right. And a very good one, too. He made a very good living and provided for us quite well. Even after he died. His insurance policy allowed my mother to live comfortably without working and even put my brother and me through college."

"So you aren't aware of anyone specifically that might have had a grudge against your father?" Scotty asked.

"I'm afraid not. Mother did say that he would make people angry when he recommended denying their claims. But all insurance adjusters get that. It's part of the job. But as I said, I was only 8 at the time. I neither knew nor cared about those things."

"I'm sure," said Lilly. "What about friends or family members? Any of those who might have held a grudge against your father for something?"

"Well, mom and dad were both only children, so there are very few relatives. And we rarely saw any of them. I don't really remember any of their friends. And mom never mentioned any who they had a falling out with."

"What about your brother?" Lilly asked. "Is it possible he might remember something?"

"I don't know. He's a lawyer in Boston now. I see him a couple of times a year. But we rarely talk about dad. He and dad were very close. He took dad's death particularly hard especially when he got old enough to understand the specifics. But he was even younger than I was. I'm not sure he would remember anything that would be of any help to you. I could call and ask him."

"We don't want to stir up any unpleasant memories unless we have to," said Scotty. This surprised Lilly. She hadn't pegged him for the sensitive type. Obviously there was a side to Detective Valens she had not seen yet. "And it's unlikely that a five year old would know anything about murder. It sure would be helpful if we knew why he was in the park that night. You have no idea why he might have gone there?"

"None, as I said. And mom didn't know either. You know. Now that I think about it, there's a box in the back room with a lot of dad's stuff in it. Mom would never get rid of it and I just haven't gotten around to it since she passed. If I remember correctly there's an old planner in there. Dad's work dropped it off after he died. Maybe there's something in there that can help."

"It might," said Lilly. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could we have a look at it?"

"Sure," said Alexandra. "I'll be right back."

"Don't want to stir up any unpleasant memories?" Lilly whispered as Alexandra went into the back of the house.

"Hey," said Scotty, somewhat defensively, "her father was murdered when she was eight and her mother died just a couple of years ago. What could a five year old know? I just didn't think it was worth bringing up something her brother may not want to deal with."

"That's okay, Scotty," said Lilly. "I agree with you. It just kind of surprised me, that's all."

"Here we go," said Alexandra, sitting a box on the table in front of her. She reached in and pulled out a small leather-bound date planner. "This is it. The man who brought it by said that dad kept all of his appointments in here. Maybe there's something in here that will tell you why he was in the park that night."

"This could be helpful," said Scotty, thumbing through the book. "He seemed to have kept a pretty complete record of all of his appointments."

"Would you mind if we kept this for a while?" Lilly asked Alexandra. "We'll need to go through it and see it there's anything in it we can use. I promise to get it back to you just as soon as possible."

"Oh, you can keep it," said Alexandra. "It's really of no use to me. If it can help find my father's murderer you're more than welcome to it."

"Thank you," said Lilly.

"This might be useful," said Scotty. "It says here that your father had an appointment with a Dr. Bruno Hagnell on March 11th. I don't find his name anywhere else in the book. Any idea why he would be seeing a doctor?"

"Not really. The only time he went to see a doctor was for his annual physical but that wasn't until September. And mom never mentioned him seeing a doctor. Dad used to brag about being as healthy as a bull. He claimed he'd never been sick a day in his life."

"Then why was he seeing a doctor?" Lilly questioned. "Maybe it had to do with one of the cases he was working on."

"Well, according to this," said Scotty, "after his appointment with the doctor he marked through all of the rest of his appointments. Except for one. He had an appointment with someone named 'Tubby' on the 23rd at 9:30 p.m. No indication what the meeting was about. Would an insurance adjuster be working that late at night?"

"I never remember my father working at night. Or on weekends. He was very emphatic about spending time with his family. And I don't remember either him or mom mentioning anyone named Tubby."

"Sounds like a nickname to me," said Scotty. "Maybe this Tubby is the one who murdered your father."

"Thank you for your time," said Lilly. "If there's anything else you remember please call us."

"I will," said Alexandra.

"Tubby," said Scotty as he and Lilly headed for the car. "Could be a street name. Maybe Campbell was involved in something illegal that his family didn't know about."

"But why would he cancel all of his appointments after seeing the doctor?" Lilly questioned. "And why see a doctor in the first place? Unless he was having medical problems his wife didn't know about."

"Even if he was having medical problems that doesn't explain why he would cancel all of his appointments. He would risk being fired. It would seem to me that if he was having medical problems he'd need his job even more."

"Yes, it does. Maybe he was involved in something shady. Something that was going to net him a lot of money. Maybe he was planning to make a big score and something went wrong. Come on, Scotty. Let's get back to the station and see if we can find out who this Tubby is."


	5. Chapter 5

FIVE

"Well, what Blessant told you matches up with what Lillian Compose told us," said Lilly when everyone had been filled in. "She was having problems an ex-boyfriend and he was apparently violent."

"Which means what Blessant said about giving Compose's mother the gun was probably correct, too," said Stillman. "What did you find out about Blessant?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," said Nick. "Been on the force for 27 years, been decorated several times, twice for bravery, lives within his income, and has never even been suspected of anything by IA. Just you're routine cop."

"He did break protocol by giving Compose the gun," said Stillman. "I've known a lot of cops thrown off the force for a stupid move like that."

"Well, he did answer all of our questions honestly," said Will. "And on the night of March 24, 1983, he was on patrol in a different part of town. There's no way he could have been involved in the murder. Seems to me he simply had a moment of bad decision making. And he is going to retire in 2 years. It seems a waste to ruin such a distinguished career over one indiscretion."

"Well," said Stillman thoughtfully, "it was a serious violation of protocol. We can't just look the other way no matter how distinguished his career is."

"I wasn't suggesting we look the other way," said Will. "I simply think that maybe it could be handled some other way besides dismissal from the force."

"I'll have a talk with his lieutenant," said Stillman. "I'm sure we can work something out. What about this Tubby you mentioned, Lil? Any idea who he was?"

"Not yet, boss," said Lilly. "Scotty and I were thinking about taking a run at Dr. Hagnell. Something caused Campbell to cancel all of his appointments after meeting with him. We're hoping he can tell us what their meeting was about."

"He may not be able to tell you much," said Stillman. "You know as well as I do that doctor/patient privilege survives death. Even after 20 years there may not be much he can tell you."

"It's worth a shot," said Lilly. "Besides, it's the only lead we've got."

"Will and I are going to have a talk with Levy Segal," said Nick. "See where he really got the gun. He told Blessant he found it in his yard. Guns don't just fall out of trees especially 17 years after a murder. I was able to get an address on him. He's at 6063 Drexel Road here in Philly. Seems he's a college student now."

"6063 Drexel Rd?" Stillman questioned.

"You know the address, boss?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, I do. Go easy on this one, Nick. That address is for the Talmudical Yeshiva of Philadelphia. It's a Rabbinical College."

"Rabbinical?" said Nick. "As in Jewish Rabbi's?"

"Exactly," said Stillman. "If he's going there he's studying to be a Rabbi. So don't treat him like any other perp. Just find out what he knows."

"You know me, boss," said Nick. "I'm the epitome of tact and diplomacy."

"Sure you are," said Stillman. "What about this Richard Keller? Did he have any connection to Campbell or the gun?"

"None that we could tell," said Scotty. "He moved to Philly from Tampa, Florida in '89. No indication he was in Philly before that."

"Okay," said Stillman. "I'll run the name Tubby by vice and narcotics. If it's a street name they might be able to tell us who he is. Lil, once you and Scotty have talked with Dr. Hagnell run by the insurance company where Campbell worked. See if they still have any information on the threats that Campbell said he received. Maybe whoever threatened him made good on those threat."

"Will do," said Lilly. "We'll also check the archives. If Campbell went to the police about those threats there might be copies of them there somewhere."

"Good idea," said Stillman. "It's getting kind of late. We'll pick things back up in the morning. Good luck, everyone."

As the detectives filed out of the squad room to go about their duties, Will hung around for a moment. When the others had left he turned to Stillman.

"Any further news on Fischer?" he asked.

"Not yet," said Stillman. "Don't worry, Will. I'll let you know the minute I hear anything."

"You'd better. I've all ready alerted the front desk and provided them with a picture of Fischer. If he comes near this building, we'll know about it."

"Thanks," said Stillman, smiling slightly. "Now get out there and do your job. We still have a case to finish."

Will just smiled and then left the squad room to find Nick.

"Levy Segal? Detectives Vera and Jeffries. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Sure, detective," said the young Segal. They had found him walking across the small campus apparently on his way to his next class. He looked at his watch. "I have a few minutes. What can I do for you?"

"You turned in a gun to the police about 4 years ago," said Nick. "According to the officer you talked to you claimed to have found it in your yard."

"That's right. I came out one morning and it was lying near the big oak tree in our front yard. The neighborhood dogs had been barking and howling the night before and I just figured someone must have cut through our yard and dropped it by accident."

"What made you decide to turn it into the police?" Will asked.

"Well, there had been this news report on television. It was just after the incident at Columbine. The report said that the police were offering an amnesty program to anyone who turned in illegal weapons, especially school age kids. I didn't know if it was illegal or not but I figured it was an easy way to make a few bucks. Turns out I was right. The officer I gave it to gave me twenty-five bucks for it."

"What did you dad have to say about it?" Will asked.

"He never knew. My dad's a trucker. Spends most of the time on the road. My mom died when I was young so I was home by myself most of the time."

"You expect us to believe you just found it lying in your yard one morning?" Nick asked.

"Hey, I know how it sounds. But honestly, that's what happened. It wasn't there the day before and when I went out to check the mail I just found it lying in the yard. Like I said, I figured someone had cut through the yard and dropped it. That's all I know."

"So you just picked it up, took it to the first cop you saw, and turned it in," said Will. "Is that about the size of it?"

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean 'not exactly'?" questioned Nick.

"Well, it was in pretty bad shape. It had a fair amount of rust on it and it was covered in dirt or something. I cleaned it up as best I could. I figured it might bring a better price that way. Oh and something that did seem a bit odd. It had four or five pieces of string tied to it. Around the trigger guard."

"String?" Will asked.

"Yeah, string. Each one was a couple of inches long. I cut the strings off, cleaned the dirt off, got as much of the rust off it as I could, and turned it in."

"And you have no idea how it got into your yard or who might have dropped it there?" Nick asked.

"Not really, no. It rained early in the morning and I didn't see any footprints in the mud so I figured whoever dropped it must have gone through the yard before it rained. I thought it was the right thing to do and I made a few bucks on the deal."

"Thanks," said Nick.

"What do you think?" Nick asked as they walked to the car.

"He didn't seem nervous or anything," said Will. "I gotta admit that's some story. It's just bad enough to be true."

"What do you make of the strings tied to it?"

"That's a new one on me. Why would someone tie stings to the trigger guard?"

"Maybe it was tied to something. Could be whoever dropped it had it tied to their belt or something and the strings broke while they were cutting through the yard."

"A .38 is a pretty heavy weapon. It's hard to imagine someone could drop it and not notice."

"Maybe they were in a hurry and couldn't stop to pick it up. Who knows? Anyway, I think the kid was being straight with us. He wasn't even born at the time of the murder."

"What about his father?" Will asked. "Could be he had something to do with the murder.

"Well, there's no indication he had any connection to Campbell. Plus his home address is nearly 4 miles from the crime scene. Besides, if he were going to dispose of the weapon even after 17 years you'd think he'd be smart enough to do something besides drop it in his front yard."

"Good point. Well, this is a dead end. Let's go see what John has found out."


	6. Chapter 6

SIX

"My office manager said you were with the police," said Dr. Hagnell. "I can't think of any reason the police would want to speak with me. I run a general practice and for the most part my patients are very satisfied with my treatment of them."

Dr. Bruno Hagnell was pretty much as Lilly and Scotty expected. He was 64 years old, somewhat overweight, nearly bald on top, and appeared to be of German descent. There was just the hint of a German accent in his speech.

"Actually, we're here about a former patient of yours," said Lilly. "Bruce Campbell. Apparently he had an appointment with you on March 11, 1983."

"Campbell?" questioned Hagnell. "The name is vaguely familiar. I don't really recall the man. But that was 20 years ago. I've had a fair number of patients since then."

"He was found murdered in Fairmont Park a couple of weeks later," said Scotty. "Gunshot to the head."

"Oh, now I think I remember him. Yes, I remember reading about that in the paper. It was a shame. He was a relatively young man from what I remember. Without consulting his file I'm afraid I don't remember very many details, however."

"We'd like to know what he came to see you about," said Lilly.

"I'm sorry, detective. Surely you're aware of doctor/patient confidentiality. Even after 20 years I'm still bound by that. I really can't divulge why he came to see me. You obviously know he did but I'm afraid I can't reveal more than that."

"We figured you might say something like that," said Scotty. "Is there anything you can tell us?"

"Nothing much really. I saw him a couple of times and then I read about his death in the paper. Obviously when that happened I retired his file. I wouldn't have had any further need of it since he was dead."

"You said you couldn't tell us anything because of the confidentiality. What if we got the executor of his estate to waive the confidentiality? You'd be able to tell us then."

"Legally, yes. But I'm not comfortable with that. My dealings were with Mr. Campbell, not the executor of his estate. Confidentiality survives death because the specifics of a case can affect not only the patient but their families as well. I'd have to also insist that his wife and both of his children also waived the confidentiality before I'd be comfortable with revealing anything about what I discussed with Mr. Campbell."

"Well, his wife died a couple of years ago," said Lilly. "But both of his children are still alive. It might take a few days but I'm sure we could get them to sign affidavits to waive the confidentiality."

"You do understand that I'd have to speak with them first?" Hagnell questioned. "So they could be fully informed of what I would be divulging. It's very possible that the information I have is something they might not want to become public knowledge."

"I see," said Lilly. "So there's nothing you can tell us about why Mr. Campbell came to see you?"

"As I said, confidentiality survives death. State and federal law, as well as medical ethics, prevents me from divulging any patient information. I wish I could help. But if I were to violate that trust – even for a patient who has died – it would not only be a violation of my oath as a doctor, but my other patients might lose confidence in me. I'm afraid in this situation my hands are tied."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Lilly. "We appreciate your time."

"What do you think?" Scotty asked as they left the office.

"I think Dr. Hagnell is hiding something."

"Why? Because he invoked the confidentiality? Any doctor or lawyer would do the same thing."

"I know. But he claimed he didn't remember Campbell specifically. For a man who didn't remember Campbell he sure seemed to have a lot of specifics. And if he didn't remember Campbell, how did he know that Campbell had two children?"

"Good question. And if he did remember Campbell, why lie about it?"

"Another good question. Come on. Let's drop by the Angleton Insurance Company. Then we'll do a check on Dr. Hagnell and see what jumps out of the woodwork."

Gerald Smith was a senior vice president for the Angleton Insurance Company. He had been with the company for more than 25 years. He sat looking at a file on his desk as Lilly and Scotty patiently waited.

"I remember Bruce very well," he said as he looked through the file. "We started with the company at the same time. He was an excellent insurance adjuster. Most of his recommendations were right on the money. Everyone thought he'd make vice president in no time, even me. I was shocked when I heard he had been murdered."

"We're looking for any information that might help us identify his murderer," said Lilly. "We understand that just before he died he received some threatening letters."

"Yes. I never actually saw the letters but he did tell me about them. They were sent to his home. Apparently they weren't very specific. Just some vague reference to a case he had denied and a threat that whoever had written them was going to make him pay for it."

"We understand that his boss advised him to go to the police about the letters," said Scotty.

"Mr. Trundle. I got his job when he retired. Yes, Bruce spoke to him about the letters. Bruce seemed very upset about them. Now, we get angry letters all the time. People violate some clause in their policy and then they're upset when we won't honor the policy. And more than a few will write nasty letters to us. Most of the time they turn out to be nothing. Sometimes people will get a lawyer and sue us. We win some, we lose some."

"But these letters were different?" questioned Lilly.

"Bruce thought so. They seemed to concern him a great deal. I think he actually did speak to the police. He told me they said there wasn't much they could do about it. There was no return address on the envelope and the letters weren't signed. The police had nothing to go on."

"He had a life insurance policy," said Scotty. "Five hundred thousand dollars."

"That's right. Most of our employees have policies like that. After all, if you're not willing to carry the same insurance you're selling, how can you convince customers they need it? We advise carrying a policy valued at about 10 times the annual salary of the main income in a home. In those days Bruce would average about $50,000.00 a year. So his policy was for $500,000.00."

"When did he get the policy?" Lilly asked.

"Let me see," said Smith, looking through the file. "It looks like it was in February of 1979."

"Four years before he died," said Scotty.

"That's right. I remember when he took out the policy. He said if anything happened to him at least his family would be taken care of."

"Did he write the policy himself?" Scotty asked.

"No, actually, I wrote it. Then it had to be reviewed by one of our supervisors and a member of senior management has to approve it before we'll issue it. It's company policy. To prevent any creative policy making."

"Kind of like creative bookkeeping?" Lilly asked.

"Something like that. As I'm sure you can imagine it would be very easy for someone who works here to write a policy that might not be exactly legitimate. So employees have to go through a very thorough process to write or update a police on themselves or a family member. We usually don't have a problem with it, but occasionally we find someone who tries to circumvent standard procedures."

"So I assume there was nothing unusual about Campbell's policy," said Lilly.

"Nothing at all. It was a standard policy. Mr. Trundle reviewed it and the president at the time, Mr. Carrollton, approved it. When Bruce died – and we received the death certificate stating his death was a homicide – we paid off on it. I handled it myself. There was nothing the least bit out of the ordinary about it."

"Can you think of anyone specific that might have had a grudge against Mr. Campbell?" Scotty asked. "Maybe someone who was upset that he denied their claim?"

"Well, that was 20 years ago. No one jumps out at me. I could look through the old records and see if there was anyone suspicious, but that's going to take some time. Our computerized records only go back to 1985."

"What about health problems?" Lilly asked. "Is there any reason Mr. Campbell might have suddenly started seeing a doctor?"

"Bruce never mentioned any health problems. At least nothing serious. It says here he had an annual physical every September. That was a standard part of the policy. It goes in most of our life insurance policies. The person the policy is on is required to undergo an annual physical to insure that nothing has changed since the policy was issued. According to his last physical – September 1982 – he was in perfect health. I can't think of any reason he'd have to see a doctor."

"How long did his wife wait after he died before she submitted her claim?" Scotty asked.

"Actually, she didn't. Well, officially, she did. But I was the one who actually submitted it. I talked with Mr. Trundle and he approved it. Mrs. Campbell was in no condition to deal with the numerous details involved with it. As I said, Bruce and I were good friends. So after he died I submitted the claim and processed all the paperwork so that she wouldn't have to."

He handed a piece of paper to Lilly.

"As you can see I submitted the paperwork about a month after Bruce died. Two months later we wrote a check for her. That was the standard length of time for processing a claim in those days. As I said, Mr. Trundle approved it and Mr. Carrollton did also. It's all in there. We were very careful to document then entire process for the State Insurance Regulatory Board so that there wouldn't be even a hint of impropriety in this case."

"That seems like a lot of trouble to go to for a single policy," said Scotty.

"It's the same whenever one of our employees dies," said Smith. "Because they work for us, the Insurance Board is always very circumspect in their review of the case. So we make sure that we follow the letter of the law. We've never had a problem in that respect."

"If it's not too much trouble," said Lilly, "we'd appreciate a copy of his insurance policy for our report."

Smith handed her several sheets of paper.

"This isn't the first time the police have come here questioning an insurance policy," he said smiling. "I assumed you'd want one. There's a copy of the policy itself, as well as a copy of the paperwork for the payout to Mr. Campbell, and a copy of the cancelled check. There's also a list of everyone who was involved with the payout in case you need to investigate further."

"Very thorough," commented Scotty.

"You don't get to be vice president by being sloppy," said Smith. "I'm sure you'll see that everything is in order."

"Is it possible that Mr. Campbell might have been involved in something unsavory?" Lilly asked. "Something that might not have been strictly legal?"

"Bruce? Heavens no. He was always very careful to make sure that any cases he investigated followed all applicable laws. He was even the type to drive down the lanes of an empty parking lot instead of just cutting across them like most of us do. I can't imagine him doing anything even the least bit illegal. It just wasn't in his nature."

"One last question," said Lilly. "It's kind of delicate but we have to ask."

"How did he and his wife get along?" Smith questioned.

"Well, frankly, yes," said Lilly.

"As I said, this isn't the first time I've had to answer police questions about an insurance policy. They had one of the best marriages I ever saw. Bruce was totally devoted to his family. He refused to works most nights or weekends because he always said those were family times. He often commented to me that making all the money he was making really wasn't any good if he lost what was most important to him: his family. He doted on them."

"So there weren't any problems between him and Mrs. Campbell?" Lilly asked.

"Nothing serious. Oh, they had their arguments like most couples. But they always worked it out. Bruce could never stay mad at anyone for very long. And especially not his wife. They were probably the happiest couple I ever met. If I had taken his example I might still be married today."

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Smith," said Lilly. "You've been a lot of help. If we have any more questions we'll let you know."

"I hope you find the guy who did this," said Smith. "Bruce didn't deserve what happened to him."

"We're going to do our best," said Scotty.

"A decent, law abiding citizen, who had no beefs with his wife, and apparent enemies who might want him dead," said Scotty as they headed out of the building. "So how does the guy end up murdered in a park practically on the other side of town?"

"We seem to be getting more questions than answers," said Lilly. "So far there doesn't seem to be anyone that was out to get this guy."

"Except maybe this Tubby mentioned in his date planner. I wonder if the boss has been able to track him down yet?"

"After 20 years it's a long shot. Let's get back to the station and see if Will and Nick have been able to come up with anything."


	7. Chapter 7

SEVEN

"So the kid seems to be clean," said Stillman back at the station.

"Seems that way," said Nick. "Gave us the same story he gave Porter. Said he found the gun in his front yard, cleaned it up, and turned it in for twenty five bucks."

"And according to Lilly and Scotty, the insurance policy was legitimate," said Will. "But the doctor does sound a bit fishy."

"That's what we thought," said Lilly. "At first he claimed he didn't remember Campbell. Then he said he vaguely remembered him but he seemed to have a lot of answer about a man he couldn't recall. Plus he knew that Campbell had 2 kids."

"You find out anything on this Tubby, boss?" Scotty asked.

"Not sure. Vice has a Tubby as a CI on their books. Seems he's been working for them the better part of 20 years or so."

"A confidential informant?" questioned Lilly. "What's his story?"

"The usual," said Stillman. "Mostly petty stuff. Got nabbed for selling hot stereos in the early '80s but had some good info on a drug dealer the police were looking for. So they cut him a deal. He's been supplying them with information ever since. The detective I talked to said he'd try to locate him and bring him in for questioning. His real name is Mark Gillian."

"Well, unless he has something for us we're fast running out of leads," said Lilly. "So far we can't find anyone that was out to get this guy."

"What about that doctor?" Stillman questioned. "You said he was suspicious."

"He still is," said Lilly. "He's hiding something, I just don't know what. But when Campbell was killed he was attending a fancy dinner downtown. Some sort of fundraiser. We were able to verify that he arrived at about 5:30 and didn't leave until well after 11:00."

"He could have paid someone," offered Nick. "Used the dinner as an alibi."

"Maybe," said Scotty. "But so far other than that one appointment in Campbell's book there's no other connection to Hagnell. It looks like a dead end to me."

"Lieutenant Stillman?"

They all looked up to see two men standing in the door to the squad room. One about 6 feet tall with sandy colored hair. He had a police badge hanging around his neck. He appeared to be in his early thirties but with the stubble of beard on his face and the shaggy hair it was hard to tell.

The other man was much shorter: barely 5'5" tall. He was dressed in typical street clothes and was wearing a baseball capped turned around backward. And he was considerably overweight. He appeared to be in his late 40s but his unkempt appearance probably made him look older than he actually was.

"I'm Stillman."

"Detective Harper, vice. I'd like you to meet Tubby Gillian. My captain said you wanted to have a word with him."

"Take him into interrogation," said Stillman. "We'll be right in."

"Come on, Tubby," said Harper. "It's time to play truth or consequences."

"He's a detective?" questioned Lilly. "He looks like some thug off the street."

"He's supposed to," said Stillman. "But Captain Miller told me he's one of the best under cover vice cops around. Lilly, why don't you take the interrogation? Find out what connection Tubby has with Campbell."

"Sure thing, boss," said Lilly. "Come on, Scotty. Let's go see if Tubby can make any sense of this mess."

Once in the interrogation room Lilly took a seat across from Tubby, who was sitting at the table. Scotty stood by the door and Detective Harper was leaning against the wall behind Tubby.

"My captain told me that your lieutenant were interested in Tubby," said Harper. "Something about an old murder."

"I ain't never murdered no one," Tubby protested.

"Just shut up," said Harper. "And take off your hat. At least try to pretend like you have some manners."

"Okay," said Tubby, pulling the hat off his head and stuffing it in his lap. "But I ain't murdered no one. You know me, Harper. I'm a fence. That's what I do. I ain't never been violent. Check my sheet. There ain't a violent crime in it. And I ain't killed nobody."

"What do you know about a man named Bruce Campbell?" Lilly asked.

"Nothing," said Tubby. "I don't usually get names. In my line of work it ain't good business."

Lilly slid a picture of Campbell across the table until it sat in front of Tubby.

"How about now?" she asked.

"Like I said, I don't know nothing," said Tubby.

"Take a look at the picture," Harper said forcefully. "And remember what I said. You answer their questions honestly or that little baggie I found on you gets processed. Right along with you."

Tubby nearly sneered as he picked up the picture and stared at it for a minute.

"Yeah, I remember this dude," he said finally. "Uptown white bread type. It was a long time ago. Maybe 20 years or so."

"You had an appointment with him?" Scotty questioned.

"Yeah, an appointment," said Tubby, a half smile on his face. "That's as good a word as any I guess."

"What was it about?" Lilly asked.

"Like I'm going to tell you," said Tubby.

"Tell them what they want to know," said Harper, grabbing tubby by his shirt.

"So you can pin a murder on me?" Tubby questioned. "No thanks. I told you, I ain't murdered no one."

"Look," said Lilly. "If you had nothing to do with the murder, you don't have anything to worry about. If there was anything illegal that might have happened the statute of limitations would have run out on it a long time ago."

"Yeah?" questioned Tubby. "Even if I admit to crime back then you can't prosecute me?"

"That's what the lady said," said Harper. "Murder is the only crime that has no statute of limitations. Anything else, you're free and clear on. Assuming you weren't involved in the murder."

"I keep tell you I wasn't," Tubby protested. "Why ain't you listening to me?"

"I'm listening," said Lilly. "Now, what did Campbell want to see you about?"

"Dude wanted a gun," said Tubby. "Said he heard about me from one of his clients or something. Was willing to pay top dollar, too. Normal rate for a gun in those days was about a hundred fifty bucks. I told the guy three hundred. He paid it without batting an eye. So I gave him the gun. Never saw him again."

"What type of gun?" Scotty asked.

"A .38," said Tubby. "Said he wanted something that was guaranteed to stop a man. Didn't want no .22 or .25. So I gave him the .38. He walked away and like I said, I never saw him again."

Lilly reached in a box on the floor and pulled out the gun that had been used to kill Campbell. It was wrapped in a plastic bag with a tag that read "Evidence".

"Is this the gun?" she asked.

Tubby hesitantly picked up the gun and looked it over. After a moment he put it back down on the table.

"Maybe," he said. "Looks like it. But a .38 Special is pretty common. I've moved quite a number of them over the years. One pretty much looks like the same to me."

"What did he want the gun for?" Scotty asked.

"Didn't know, didn't ask," said Tubby. "It don't pay to ask too many questions especially of strangers. I was only interested in two things. That he wasn't a cop and how much he was willing to pay for the piece. I could tell by looking at him he wasn't no cop. And like I said, I quoted him twice the normal rate and he forked the money over without a word."

"Did he tell you who gave him your name?" Lilly asked.

"Okay, look detective," said Tubby. "It was a simple business transaction. That's it. Took all of maybe 2 minutes. He approached me and said he was looking for a piece. Said he had been told I could provide him with one. I told him 300. He pulled 3 bills out of his pocket and handed them to me. I handed him the gun. Then we parted ways. That's all that happened."

"Where'd you get the gun?" Scotty asked.

"Don't really remember," said Tubby. "I had a number of suppliers and never really kept any books or anything. Probably from someone who boosted it. All I know was it couldn't be traced to me and I made 3 bills on the deal. That's all I know. And that's the truth."

"Okay, thanks for your time," said Lilly. "I guess we're through here."

"Wait for me in the squad room," Harper said to Tubby.

"What about our deal?" Tubby asked. "I was straight with them. You said if I was straight that little baggie would disappear."

"What baggie?" Harper asked, a smirk on his face.

Tubby just smiled and got up to leave the room. Just before he left he turned back to Lilly.

"You know, there was one weird thing about it," he said.

"Weird?" questioned Lilly. "How?"

"The dude wanted ammunition for the gun," said Tubby. "Not so unusual. Most customers want ammo for the pieces they buy."

"What was weird about him asking?" Scotty asked.

"Dude only wanted one bullet," said Tubby, a look of confusion on his face. "Most customers want a full load. Sometimes more. But he only wanted one bullet. So I gave it to him free of charge. I figured I had made twice what I normally would have. Decided he was entitled to a fifty cent bullet."

"Okay, thanks," said Lilly.

"Was he helpful?" Harper asked after Tubby had left the room.

"Maybe," said Lilly. "It answers the question of what Campbell was doing meeting Tubby the day before his death. But it doesn't get us any closer to finding his killer. And only getting one round. That makes no sense at all."

"It would if it was suicide," offered Harper. "He'd only need one round for that with this weapon."

"Except the weapon wasn't found with the body," said Scotty. "In fact, it didn't turn up until 17 years later."

"Oh," said Harper. "Well, that does sort of rule out suicide then, doesn't it?"

"What about Tubby?" Lilly asked. "Is he capable of murdering someone?"

"Him?" questioned Harper. "Naw. He's right about one thing. He's not the violent type. He just fences stolen items. It's one of the reasons I don't put him away for good. That, and he's a great source of information on the street."

"Speaking of which," said Scotty, "what about that plastic baggie he mentioned?"

Harper pulled a small plastic baggie out of his pants pocket and held it up. Inside was a small amount of what Lilly and Scotty knew to be marijuana.

"Not quite an ounce of pot," said Harper. "This could send him upstate for a good many years. But I told him if he cooperated – and answered your questions honestly – I'd make it disappear."

"Well, he did seem to cooperate," said Lilly. "As for answering honestly, he didn't seem to be hiding anything."

"Fine," said Harper. "Guess I'll flush this before I leave the building. If you need anything else, just let my captain know. He can get word to me right away."

"Will do," said Lilly. "Thanks for the assist, detective."

"Any time," said Harper, who then turned and followed Tubby out of the room.

"So Campbell bought the gun that was used to kill him," said Stillman after Lilly and Scotty had filled the other in on Tubby's information. "But only a single round? That doesn't make any sense to me either. Why not just buy a full load instead of one round?"

"Can't answer that one, boss," said Lilly. "Maybe he was going to use the gun to try and scare someone but wanted at least one round just in case. And we still don't know what he was doing in that park that time of night. Campbell's house is located in Tacony. That's, what, eleven or twelve miles from where the body was found? Who was he meeting to drive that far at 8:00 o'clock at night?"

"This doesn't look like it's going anywhere, lieutenant," said Scotty. "So far we can't find anyone who might have been out to hurt Campbell and there's no indication he was involved in anything illegal. Maybe there just aren't enough leads to take us anywhere."

"You may be right, Scotty," said Stillman. "But someone killed him and they're still walking around out there. We'll just have to keep digging until we get something."

"You know," said Lilly, "before Harper and Tubby showed up we were talking about Dr. Hagnell. Our check on him came up empty. But I was thinking. He might not be able to tell us what Campbell went to see him about, but the coroner might. If Campbell had some kind of serious medical condition it might have shown up in the autopsy."

"The autopsy report didn't show anything out of the ordinary," said Stillman.

"I know," replied Lilly. "But maybe there was something that wasn't in the report."

"Those things are pretty complete," said Will. "Especially with Dr. Polanski. He's one of the best pathologists around. I can't believe there'd be something seriously wrong with Campbell and he didn't put it in the report."

"Can't hurt to ask him," said Stillman. "Lil might be right. There's nothing to lose by asking him. Go have a talk with him. See if there's anything he can tell you that wasn't in his report."

"On our way, boss," said Lilly.

She and Scotty headed out of the squad room and headed for the city morgue.


	8. Chapter 8

EIGHT

"As I told you when you first came in, detectives," said Polanski, "I don't leave anything out of my reports. Everything, no matter how insignificant or inconsequential it might seem, goes into the report. You can never tell when a single piece of information may help in determining the cause of death."

Dr. Jacob Polanski was 55 years old and wore those half-frame reading glasses that many older people wore. He was dressed in the obligatory white lab coat as he, Lilly, and Scotty sat in his office. He was currently looking over the file on Bruce Campbell.

"We aren't casting aspersions, Doctor," said Lilly. "And we certainly aren't trying to imply that your report was incomplete in any way. It's just a routine follow up that we do in these cases. We just need to know if you can tell us anything about the case that might help in our investigation."

"Well, it seems pretty straight forward," said Polanski, looking through the papers in the folder. "COD was a single gunshot to the right temple. It was a contact wound, meaning someone put the muzzle of the pistol against his head and pulled the trigger. Death was nearly instantaneous.

"I remember this case now. I had been with the department about 4 years when I got the call. He was found in Fairmont Park. My preliminary examination indicated that it was a homicide and the autopsy bore that out. And I did list the case as a homicide, probably murder. There was something odd about it, though."

"Odd?" questioned Scotty. "How?"

"I found GSR on his right hand. Normally that would indicate that he had fired a weapon recently. And the GSR was pretty fresh. Probably had been deposited within an hour or so. Most likely at the time of death."

"No weapon was found at the scene," said Lilly. "In fact, it didn't turn up until 17 years later some 4 miles away. If death was instantaneous Campbell certainly couldn't have carried the gun 4 miles away."

"I'm aware of that detective," said Polanski. "That's why I ruled it a homicide. As best I could figure, whoever killed Campbell put the muzzle of the gun against his right temple. Now, normally if you do that, the person isn't just going to sit there and let you shoot him unless they're restrained. I didn't find any indication that Campbell had been restrained recently.

"So I figured Campbell must have reached up and grabbed the gun to stop whoever it was. But he wasn't fast enough. Most likely the shot was fired just as he grabbed the assailant's hand and that's how he got the GSR on his hand. If there had been a weapon found near the body I would probably have ruled this one a suicide. But with no weapon it was quite evident that it was murder. Someone carried the gun away after Campbell was dead."

"What about any serious medical conditions?" Lilly asked. "Any indication he had anything like that?"

"No, none at all. My examination of the body indicated he was in reasonably good health with nothing seriously wrong with him. The tox screen came back negative except for some wine in his system. Only about .02. Not even really enough to make him tipsy. That's only about 5 ounces of wine, roughly one glass. But other than that there were no drugs at all in his system."

"So there wasn't anything that might have caused him to suddenly go see a doctor?" questioned Scotty.

"Not from what I can tell. But it's possible he could have had an untreated ailment that I couldn't detect. High blood pressure or a heart murmur, something like that. You can't tell from a dead body if someone suffered from something like that unless there are applicable drugs in his system. Campbell didn't have any. No drugs, no communicable diseases, no abnormalities of any kind that I could find."

"Campbell went to see a doctor about 2 weeks before he died," said Lilly. "But the doctor wouldn't give us any specifics about what he had seen Campbell for."

"I'd have done the same thing," said Polanski. "Doctor/client confidentiality survives death, as I'm sure you all ready know. Unless it was a vital matter of public health like some communicable disease that's extremely dangerous no reputable doctor will divulge that type of information. Even if the patient has died."

"Is there any way to get a court order to force him to tell us?" Lilly asked. "Based on your examination of Campbell?"

"Absolutely none. As I said, Campbell appeared to be in perfect health. There's no valid reason to even request a warrant and I doubt any judge would issue one."

"So what was Campbell seeing Dr. Hagnell about and why would Hagnell lie about it?" questioned Scotty.

"Afraid I can't answer that, Detective," said Polanski. "This is an open and shut case of homicide: death at the hands of another. The manner of death indicates murder. Whether it was spur of the moment or premeditated I can't say. All I can tell you is based on the available information Mr. Campbell was murdered."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Lilly. "We appreciate you taking the time to speak with us."

"My pleasure, Detective. I only wish I could have been of more help. This is the first time anyone has asked about the case so I surmised that the murderer was never caught."

"Never even identified," said Scotty. "That's what we're trying to do."

"Well, if there's anything else I can do to help, just let me know. But I really don't know what else I can tell you other than what I all ready have."

"Thank you again, Doctor," said Lilly. "We'll see ourselves out."

"That was a big goose egg," said Scotty as they left the morgue. "We didn't get anything from him other than what was all ready listed in the autopsy report."

"Well, it was worth a shot," said Lilly. "Let's get back to the squad room and let Stillman know what we found out. Or rather what we didn't find out." She looked at her watch. "It's nearly lunch time. Want to grab a quick bite after we inform the lieutenant? My treat."

"Sure," said Scotty, smiling at her. "You got some place special in mind?"

"Very special," said Lilly.

"Polanski didn't give you anything?" Stillman asked.

"Only that Dr. Hagnell was correct in not telling us anything," said Lilly. "I still think he's hiding something. I just don't know what it is. Yet."

"We're not investigating the doctor," said Stillman. "At least not until he becomes a viable suspect. You said from all indications he had nothing to do with the murder."

"That's right," said Lilly. "He was on the other side of town when the murder was committed. And we haven't found out anything that indicates he was involved."

"Then stick to the case at hand," said Stillman. "He just might be the type that gets nervous when he talks to the police. Let's not go inventing cases. We have plenty to do without that."

"I won't," Lilly promised. "Scotty and I are going to grab a quick bite. We shouldn't be gone long."

"Lil says she knows this great place," said Scotty.

"Oh?" questioned Stillman.

"Gregory," said Lilly with a half smile on her face.

"Oh, well, I guess it is about time," said Stillman. "Scotty, you're in for a real treat. Say hi for me, will you?"

"Will do, boss," said Lilly as she and Scotty headed for the door.

"Gregory's?" questioned Scotty. "I never heard of it. Where is this place?"

"It's not a place," said Lilly. "It's a who. He serves the best polish sausage sandwiches in the city."

"Polish sausage?" questioned Scotty as they left the squad room.


	9. Chapter 9

NINE

Gregory turned out to be Gregory Hillman, a rather rotund black gentleman who ran one of those street side wagons that sold hot dogs and sausages that could be found throughout Philadelphia. He appeared to be nearly 70 and had just the fringe of white hair on his head. He also had one of the bushiest white mustaches Scotty had ever seen. When he saw Lilly and Scotty walking up to his wagon his face lit up.

"Lilly, it's a pleasure to see you again," said Gregory. "It's been a long time. I was beginning to think you were ignoring me."

"Not a chance, Gregory," said Lilly. "I'd like you to meet Scotty Valens, my new partner."

"Partner?" questioned Gregory. "You pay attention to her, young man. You can learn a lot from this one."

"I will," said Scotty.

"Two poles all the way," said Lilly.

"Coming right up," said Gregory. "And for Mr. Valens, it's on the house."

"Scotty, please," said Scotty.

He instantly liked Gregory. The man was very outgoing and it was obvious that Lilly liked him as well.

"Gregory is practically a Philly landmark," said Lilly as Gregory fixed their sausages. "Nearly every cop in the city eats here. Oh, that reminds me, Lieutenant Stillman said to tell you hi."

"Well, tell John I said hi right back. And tell him to stop by soon. Been nearly as long as since I seen him as it has with you."

"I will," said Lilly.

"Balloons?" questioned Scotty, looking up at the balloons that were tied to the wagon. They bore what was unmistakably a logo that read "Gregory's Dogs". "Don't think I've ever balloons on one of these carts before."

"I'm the only one who has them," said Gregory. "I have to move around during the day. Find the best places to serve my customers. The balloons help them find me if they're looking for me. I have a fair number of regulars and I try to make it as easy as possible for them to find me. It's great for business."

"Smart idea," said Scotty as he took a bite of his sandwich. "You're right, Lilly. This is the best polish sausage I've ever tasted."

"Make 'em myself," said Gregory smiling. "Secret family recipe handed down to me by my momma. Been in my family for a couple of generations. Only serve the best to Philly's finest."

"Well, I'll have to remember this place," said Scotty. "Sure beats some stale donuts."

"That they do," said Gregory.

"Gregory," said Lilly thoughtfully, "where do you get your balloons at?"

"There's this place a couple of blocks over that make 'em for me. Get a good deal on 'em, too, since I buy quite a few of 'em. By the end of the day the helium in 'em gets worn out and they start to droop a might. Gotta replace them every day. So that place prints my logo on 'em and I pick 'em up just before I head out for the day."

"I see," said Lilly. "Well, guess we should be getting back to work. I'll see you later, Gregory. And I'll be sure to tell Nick and Will to stop by soon, too."

"You do that," said Gregory. "Nice to meet you, Scotty. Don't be no stranger now."

"Don't worry," said Scotty, wiping mustard off his mouth, "I won't."

"What'd I tell you?" said Lilly as they walked the block and a half back to the station. "Best polish sausages in the city."

"Best I've ever tasted," said Scotty. "I'll be going back there, that's for sure."

"Scotty, I need to run a quick errand," said Lilly. "I shouldn't be long. I'll meet you back at the station."

"Sure thing," said Scotty. "Anything I can help with?"

"No not really. I'll see you in a bit."

As Scotty headed into police headquarters Lilly headed to her car.

It was nearly forty five minutes before Lilly got back to the police station. As she walked into the squad room everyone noticed the five balloons she was carrying. Two of them said "Happy Birthday", two said "Happy Anniversary", and the fifth was blank. Stillman looked up from his desk and got a perplexed look on his face.

"The lieutenant just got word," said Scotty. "Thaddeus Fischer is being released in the morning."

"Oh, not good," said Lilly as she tied the balloons to the back of her chair to keep them from floating away.

"What's with the balloons?" Nick questioned. "Planning a party or two?"

"No, just going to test a theory," said Lilly.

"Detective Rush?"

Lilly looked up to see a uniform standing next to her desk. He glanced at the balloons and then handed her a sheet of paper.

"This just came in over the fax for you."

"Thanks," said Lilly, examining the fax. "It fits."

"What fits?" Stillman asked, coming out of his office. "And what's up with the balloons?"

"Maybe the answer to this case," said Lilly. "Scotty, get me the gun that Levy Segal turned into Officer Porter."

Scotty went over to the box containing the information on the case and pulled out the plastic bag holding the gun. He walked over and handed the bag to Lilly. She opened the bag and pulled out the gun.

"I think we've been going about this all wrong," she said.

"How so?" Will asked.

"What do we know about the case?" Lilly asked. "Not what we've surmised or guessed at but what do we actually know?"

"Bruce Campbell was found murdered in Fairmont Park on March 24, 1983," said Nick. "He was shot once in the head with a .38 caliber pistol."

"Not exactly," said Lilly. "He was found dead in the park on March 24th. We only assumed that he was murdered because we didn't find a weapon with his body."

"So what was it?" Scotty asked. "Accidental? That would explain how someone took the weapon with them."

"We also know that there apparently wasn't anyone who was out to get Campbell," said Lilly. "At least no one we've identified yet. And there apparently was no illegal activity that Campbell was involved in. We also know that he had a life insurance policy worth $500,000.00 that his wife got. And that he had an appointment with Dr. Hagnell about 2 weeks before he died."

"Okay, that's what we know," said Stillman. "Lil, where are you going with this?"

"Just another second, boss," said Lilly. "We also know that he apparently cancelled all of his appointments after he saw the doctor. According to the vice president at the insurance company he was a hard working insurance adjuster. There seems to be only one possible reason he would cancel all of his appointments at the same time."

"If he was planning to quit?" questioned Nick.

"Not exactly," said Lilly. "Before I came back to the office I stopped by the old stomping grounds."

"Suspicious documents," said Stillman. "That's where you worked before you came to us."

"That's right," said Lilly. "I found the threatening letters that Campbell claimed he received. They had them in an inactive file since Campbell was dead. When I looked at them I noticed something about them. So I had them compare the letters with the insurance papers that Campbell had signed when he took out the policy on himself."

"What did you find out?" Stillman asked.

"They confirmed what I suspected," said Lilly. "The letters were written by the same hand that signed the insurance papers."

"Someone forged Campbell's signature on the insurance papers?" Nick asked. "Who? Gerald Smith."

"No," said Lilly. "Campbell did sign the papers. I confirmed that with Smith. He watched Campbell sign the papers himself."

"But that means that Campbell wrote the threatening letters," said Stillman. "Why would he do that?"

"To lend credence to his claim that he was being threatened," said Lilly. "And help make his death be ruled a murder."

"Instead of what?" Will asked.

"A suicide," said Lilly. She picked up the paper the uniformed officer had given her. "This is a fax from one of the local news stations. The meteorological department checked the weather conditions for the night Campbell died. According to them, the wind was out of the Northeast at about 2-3 miles per hour most of the night."

"Okay, how does that equate to Campbell committing suicide?" Stillman questioned. "No weapon was found at the scene. Someone must have taken the gun away. Campbell couldn't have done it. He was dead. There had to be a second person there either when Campbell died or just after."

"No, sir, there didn't," said Lilly.

As she was talking she had been carefully tying the balloons she had brought in with her to the trigger guard of the pistol. She let the balloons go and they casually floated to the ceiling and sat suspended in midair above the heads of the detectives.

"I think Campbell committed suicide and used balloons similar to these to dispose of the gun," said Lilly. "He was an insurance adjuster. He'd know what to do to make sure his death looked like a murder rather than a suicide. He'd also know that his life insurance wouldn't pay off if it was a suicide. It had to be ruled either accidental or murder. That way his family would be able to collect on the policy."

"So Campbell goes into the park on the night he died," said Stillman. "He ties the balloons to the gun, shoots himself in the head, and when he falls to the ground dead the gun simply floats away."

"That's what I think," said Lilly. "It explains why he wanted the gun in the first place and why he only wanted one bullet from Tubby. He knew he wouldn't need more than one or at least that he wouldn't be able to use the gun more than once."

"So the gun floats away," said Nick. "Then what? It just floats around in the sky for 17 years when the strings break and it drops to the ground?"

"No," said Lilly. "As I said, the winds were out of the Northeast the night Campbell died. That was more or less the direction of Levy Segal's house from where Campbell was found."

"So the gun floats on the wind until the helium in it loses its buoyancy," said Will. "When it falls to the earth it's over Segal's house. Then what? It becomes lodged in the tree in his front yard and hangs there for 17 years?"

"Sounds like a legitimate scenario to me," said Lilly. "Maybe it's hung up in the branches high up in the tree. Virtually unnoticeable by anyone from the ground. After 17 years the strings on the balloon either rot or break and the gun falls into the yard where Segal found it."

"That's an interesting scenario," said Stillman. "And it does fit all the known facts. There's just one problem with it. There's not a shred of evidence to support it. Unless you can come up with something substantial there's no way we can change this case from a murder to a suicide."

"I think I know where we can get some evidence," said Lilly. "If I'm right, then there should be some remnants of the balloons still hanging in the tree in Segal's yard. That should be enough to verify my theory."

"Take a couple of uniforms with you," said Stillman. "It's not ladylike to be climbing trees."

"On our way, boss," said Lilly.

She and Scotty headed out of the squad room.

At Segal's house they watched as a young uniformed officer climbed to the top of the very large oak tree in the boy's front yard. As they were watching, Segal stood in the yard next to them.

"You really think the gun hung in this tree for 17 years?" questioned Segal. "I used to climb this tree as a kid. I never saw anything like a gun or balloons in it."

"It might have been hung up in the branches higher than you could climb," said Scotty. "I've climbed a few trees myself. I don't ever remember climbing all the way to the top."

"Well, I hope you find something," said Segal. "I know how my story sounds. Finding the gun lying in the yard like that. I mean, things like that just don't happen."

"We'll know in a few moments," said Lilly. "As soon as Officer Smithers finishes up there."

They waited for several minutes as the young policeman steadily made his way to the top of the tree. Occasionally he would stop and look at something but then would continue up. Shortly he was very nearly at the top of the tree. It was obvious that the branches still above him were simply too small to support his weight.

Suddenly he stopped and looked at something. He reached out and picked up something and put it in his pocket. He waved back to the detectives and the boy watching him. Then he began to make his way back down the tree. Lilly hoped that wave meant he had found something.

After a few moments Smithers reached the ground and brushed himself off. He turned to Lilly and Scotty with a smile on his face.

"It was nearly at the top," he said. "There are 3 or 4 branches that create a sort of cradle about a foot or so in diameter. And it has a small depression in it. I found this in the depression."

He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Then he extended his hand and opened it. Lying in his palm were the remains of three strings each tied to what were obviously the remains of balloons. Lilly took the strings and just smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

TEN

"Well, it looks like your theory was right," said Stillman when Lilly and Scotty had returned to the squad room and shown him what they had found. "Campbell apparently committed suicide and made it look like a murder so his family would collect the insurance."

"I'm kind of sorry I was right," said Lilly. "This means that his family will be on the hook for half a million dollars. The insurance company is sure to change their minds about the payout once the COD is changed from murder to suicide."

"That's not our problem," said Stillman. "Our job was to investigate the crime. We've done that. We can put this one to bed now. Good job, Lilly. To everyone. Good job on this one."

"There's still one unanswered questioned," said Lilly.

"Why did Campbell commit suicide?" Will asked.

"Exactly," said Lilly. "From all accounts he was happy. He had a loving wife, two wonderful kids, he was on the fast track to becoming vice president of the company where he worked. And he was making a very nice salary, especially for 1983. It seemed he had everything. Why would he suddenly just decide to commit suicide?"

"That's not our job, Lil," said Stillman. "Our job is to investigate the case and see if we can identify the doer or doers. Then we turn over what we have to the DA so that he can decide how to proceed with the case. We've done that."

"I disagree, boss," said Lilly. "I think the why is a very important part of the case. And it does help the DA make a stronger case in court."

"You know that motive is not a prerequisite in a court case," said Will. "The DA just needs to establish mean and opportunity. And you know as well as I do that motive is not always clear, especially in a suicide."

"I'm with Lilly on this one," said Nick. "Campbell had everything. It doesn't make sense that he'd just suddenly decide to commit suicide for no reason. We didn't find any indication that he was mentally unstable or anything like that. So why did he just suddenly decide to kill himself?"

"You're thinking the doctor, aren't you?" Scotty asked Lilly.

"It's the only question we haven't answered," said Lilly. "Why did Campbell go see the doctor in the first place? And what kind of news did the doctor give him? Campbell suddenly goes to see a doctor then almost immediately afterward he cancels all of his appointments for the future. Then, 13 days later he goes into the park alone and blows his brains out. I think that's just a bit too coincidental."

"Well," said Stillman thoughtfully, "the doctor told you he couldn't divulge any specifics about the case. You think that might have changed now?"

"It's worth a shot," said Lilly. "Since it wasn't a murder maybe the doctor will be willing to be a bit more forthcoming with the information. The way I see it, it can't hurt to try. The worst that can happen is he still won't tell us anything."

"Okay, go see the doctor again," said Stillman. "But if you can't find out anything then write up your report and turn it in. We've solved the who and the how on this one. We can't waste any more time on trying to figure out why."

"Thanks boss," said Lilly. "We shouldn't be gone long."

She and Scotty headed out of the squad room to go back and visit Doctor Hagnell.

"I thought I made it clear the other day, detectives," said Hagnell, "that ethically and legally I'm bound by doctor/patient confidentiality. I really can't tell you any more than I told you the last time you were here."

"The case has changed," said Lilly. "We've discovered that Mr. Campbell committed suicide just after he visited you. It wasn't a murder as we first thought. The coroner will probably be issuing a new death certificate based on our findings."

"I still don't see how I can help you," said Hagnell. "The cause of death is unimportant when it comes to the confidentiality. Suicide or murder I still can't divulge any information about Mr. Campbell without a waiver from the executor of his estate. And as I also explained the last time, I would also need consent of Mr. Campbell's children. There's just nothing I can do for you."

"Something you told him caused him to commit suicide," said Scotty. "The District Attorney is going to want to know what that was. It's a lot better if you tell us now rather than wait for a visit from him."

"I'll tell him the same thing I told you," said Hagnell. "Doctor/patient confidentiality. And I'm sure a lawyer will understand that even better than you do. They have to deal with it on a daily basis, even the District Attorney. Now if you'll excuse me I have several patients waiting to be seen."

"Did you really think he'd change his mind?" Scotty asked as they left the doctor's office.

"No, not really," said Lilly. "But we had to give it a try. I still want to know what happened to cause Campbell to kill himself."

"Well, that ain't gonna happen," said Scotty. "Unless the doctor changes his mind I don't see any way to find out what he told Campbell. And from the way Lillian Compose talked the other day, her brother isn't likely to give his consent. It sounds like he just wants to forget the whole thing."

"I guess you're right," said Lilly. "I just don't like putting a case to bed with unanswered questions in it."

"Nothing else we can do. You heard what the lieutenant said. If the doctor wouldn't talk we need to write up our report and turn it in. It's the DA's problem now. Come on. I'll buy you a cup of coffee. Seems it's the least I can do after the sandwich the other day. I saw a coffee shop across the street."

"You're on," said Lilly.

Lilly and Scotty came out of the coffee shop talking about how to write up their report. It was pretty straight forward even if they didn't have a motive. Once they turned in their report their official connection to the case would end. The evidence would be moved to the "Closed" cases and they'd move on to their next cold job. As they walked to their car a woman in her early 50s approached them. Lilly recognized the woman. She was Sylvia Hernandez, Dr. Hagnell's office manager.

"Detective Rush, I'm glad I caught you," said Hernandez walking up to the two detectives.

"Ms. Hernandez," said Lilly, glancing at Scotty. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Can we sit for a moment? This shouldn't take long."

The three walked to a nearby bench and the two women sat down. Scotty stood nearby sipping his coffee and looking around. As they sat down, Ms. Hernandez laid a manila envelope that she was carrying on the bench beside her.

"I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for Mr. Campbell," said Hernandez hesitantly. "I remember him. He was a very nice man. I was sorry to hear he committed suicide. He really didn't seem the type to me."

"Well, you just never know," said Lilly. "Sometimes the reasons for suicide aren't always clear. Is there anything you can tell us about why Campbell went to see Dr. Hagnell that day? Hagnell said he couldn't say anything because of doctor/patient confidentiality."

"Well, unfortunately, as long as I work for the doctor I'm bound by the same confidentiality," said Hernandez. "I have to abide by the same rules the doctor does for the same reasons. I wish I could say something but legally I'm prevented from saying anything."

"I understand," said Lilly. "I just like to have a why to put in our reports. But it doesn't appear we're going to get that in this case."

The woman handed Lilly a card. It was one of the doctor's business cards.

"I've put my home phone number on the back of the card," said Hernandez. "If there's anything I can do to help, please let me know." She stood up and glanced at the envelope for a moment. "Don't forget your envelope, detective. I would imagine it contains something important."

Without another word she turned and headed back to Hagnell's office. Confused, Lilly picked up the envelope and opened it. She pulled a file out of envelope. She read the name on the file. It was the file for Bruce Campbell.

Carl Adair sat in Stillman's office looking through the file that Hernandez had left for Lilly. Adair was the executive ADA for Philadelphia. Stillman had called him in when they had discovered that the file was actually Bruce Campbell's medical file from Hagnell's office.

"You're sure you didn't ask this Sylvia Hernandez to give you this?" questioned Adair.

"We hardly spoke to her," said Lilly. "We identified ourselves as detectives and asked to see the doctor. That was the extent of our contact with her. Until she approached us outside the coffee shop with this."

"Well," said Adair, "the doctor's right about one thing. This is all privileged information. Unless we can get a waiver from the next of kin nothing we find in here is useful. And I have to admit I'm kind of stumped. I don't see how his medical file is going to be of any use. You said he committed suicide, right? Well, unless Dr. Hagnell helped him commit suicide, I'm not seeing a crime here."

"Well, she obviously wanted us to know what Hagnell and Campbell talked about," said Scotty. "Otherwise why give us his file?"

"That makes sense," said Adair. "But I'm a lawyer, not a doctor. Most of this stuff I can't make heads or tails of."

"That's why I asked Dr. Polanski to be here," said Stillman, taking the file from Adair and handing it to the coroner. "He's a medical doctor. Maybe he can tell us what's so important in this file."

Polanski took the file and began to look through the papers. He would stop occasionally and scan something then move on to the next one. He had a perplexed look on his face.

"This can't be correct," said Polanski.

"What is it, Doctor?" Stillman asked.

"Well," said Polanski, "according to this, Dr. Hagnell diagnosed Bruce Campbell with AIDS. That's impossible. There was no sign of AIDS or any disease in the body I examined."

"So what?" questioned Stillman. "Did Dr. Hagnell misdiagnose Campbell?"

"I don't see how," said Polanski. "According to these test results the only thing that Campbell seemed to suffer from what a slightly elevated blood pressure. Not even anything that most doctors would prescribe any medication for. The rest of the test results are pretty clean."

"So why would Hagnell say that Campbell had AIDS if he wasn't even sick?" Will asked.

"Insurance fraud," said Adair. "I've seen a few cases like this before. A doctor tells a patient they have some kind of disease they don't have. Then the doctor can bill the insurance company for all kinds of tests and treatments that either aren't necessary or aren't actually performed. No one questions it because there's a 'valid' diagnosis from a doctor."

"Well that doesn't help," said Nick. "What's the statute of limitations on insurance fraud? Two years? This happened 20 years ago. Hagnell can't be prosecuted for it."

"Maybe not," said Adair. "But if he was doing it 20 years ago and hasn't been caught yet I'll bet he's still doing it. With Dr. Polanski's expert testimony I'm sure a judge will grant me a warrant to have a look at Hagnell's files. I'm willing to bet we'll find more just like this one. Ones that are more recent and that we can prosecute."

"Maybe we can get him on more than insurance fraud," suggested Lilly.

"What are you talking about, Detective?" Adair asked.

"Dr. Polanski, you said that Hagnell diagnosed Campbell with AIDS when he wasn't infected," said Lilly.

"That's right. The diagnosis is quite evident although there's absolutely no evidence to support such a diagnosis."

"Then I think Dr. Hagnell might just be guilty of more than bilking some insurance companies," continued Lilly. "A lot more."


	11. Chapter 11

ELEVEN

Dr. Hagnell sat in the interrogation room of the police station. Lilly sat on the opposite side of the table from him and Stillman was standing by the door. Dr. Polanski and ADA Adair were sitting in the back of the room. Hagnell glanced at the two non-detectives momentarily.

"We appreciate you coming in," said Stillman. "There are just a couple of questions we need cleared up before we close this case."

"Well, as I told your detective," said Hagnell, "without a waiver from the executor of Mr. Campbell's estate there really isn't much else I can tell you."

"Oh, we've taken care of that," said Lilly, sliding a piece of paper to Hagnell. "This is a waiver executed by Gerald Smith, the executor of Mr. Campbell's estate."

"I believe I was also very specific in my requirements," said Hagnell. "The law requires it be the executor of Mr. Campbell's estate. And I also require permission from both of Mr. Campbell's children before I can divulge any information about his condition."

"Alexandra Campbell told us she's fine with you divulging all information regarding her father's dealings with you," said Lilly.

"Both children, Detective," said Hagnell. "And in writing. Otherwise I'm afraid my hands are tied."

"Actually," said Adair, "the law only requires waiver by Mr. Campbell's executor. We have that. You can't refuse to answer their questions now. Doctor/patient confidentiality no longer applies."

"And you would be?" Hagnell questioned.

"Executive ADA Adair. If you refuse to answer Detective Rush's questions now you'll be charged with obstruction of justice."

"Well," said Hagnell nervously, "I'm afraid I don't remember the specifics of that particular case. Without Mr. Campbell's file there's not really much I can tell you about it."

"You mean this?" Lilly asked, placing the file on the table in front of Hagnell.

"Where did you get that?" Hagnell demanded. "That's private and confidential. I do know enough about the law to know that you have it illegally."

"Unless it was voluntarily turned over to us," said Lilly. "Sylvia Hernandez, your office manager, gave it to me. And ADA Adair assures me that it's perfectly legal for us to have it. And to examine what it says."

"Well, I'm afraid most of what's in that file is some very technical legal jargon," said Hagnell. "It can easily be misinterpreted by a lay person. It requires a trained medical doctor to completely understand its contents."

"Dr. Polanski," Polanski introduced himself, "and I am a trained medical doctor. I've looked the file over and given them my professional opinion on it."

"According to this file," said Lilly, "you diagnosed Mr. Campbell with AIDS. Not just infected with HIV but a full blown case of AIDS. Only Dr. Polanski tells us that there's nothing in the file to substantiate a diagnosis of AIDS."

"Obviously Dr. Polanski is not as conversant with AIDS as I am," said Hagnell. "I see many cases in my practice. Each can be different. Simply being a medical doctor doesn't necessarily make him competent in diagnosing a disease as varied and complex as AIDS can be."

"Except that I'm the senior medical examiner for Philadelphia," said Polanski. "And I can assure you that I see many more cases of AIDS a year than you do. There's absolutely nothing in Mr. Campbell's file that indicates he has any serious condition, let alone AIDS."

"Well, obviously the file is incomplete," said Hagnell. "Sylvia can be quite incompetent at times."

"So incompetent that you'd keep her running your office for more than 20 years?" Lilly asked. "I don't think so. We also have these." She laid several more papers on the table. "We checked. According to the insurance company we checked with you billed them for tests and treatments for Mr. Campbell that aren't reflected in his record. Including at least one that was supposedly performed on Mr. Campbell on March 25, 1983. The day after he died."

"Simple clerical error," said Hagnell. He was beginning to sweat. "It does happen, Detective."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that," said Lilly. "One that you didn't correct. We also have the cancelled check you cashed for that bill. That makes it insurance fraud."

"Which, if I'm not mistaken, the statute of limitations would have run out on many years ago," said Hagnell. "Which means I can't be prosecuted for it."

"No, but there is no statute of limitations on murder," said Stillman.

"That's ridiculous," said Hagnell. "Detective Rush said Mr. Campbell committed suicide. So I couldn't have murdered him. You can't have it both ways."

"1983 was a very tense time," said Stillman. "Virtually nothing was known about AIDS back then. Originally it was called GRIDS: Gay Related Immune Deficiency Syndrome. Because the only people who seemed to get it were gay men. Then it began to show up in intravenous drug users who were sharing dirty needles. The name wasn't changed to AIDS until a substantial number of heterosexual people were diagnosed with it. And for many years it wasn't even known how it was transmitted."

"Which has nothing to do with me," said Hagnell. "And in no way even implies that I murdered Mr. Campbell."

"That would have been a tough time for a married man with two small children," said Lilly. "Diagnosed with AIDS: the queer disease. People would automatically assume he was either gay or a drug user. Or both. His reputation would be ruined and he probably would have even lost his job. Not to mention that in 1983 no insurance company would touch him. He wouldn't be able to pay for any treatments he needed and his life insurance would have been worthless. The insurance company would have cancelled him the instant they learned of the diagnosis."

"What was the plan?" Stillman asked. "Tell him he had AIDS and squeeze the insurance company for everything you could get? Figure that the medical researchers would come up with a cure or treatment within a couple of years and then have Mr. Campbell miraculous be cured? Sort of backfired on you, didn't it? Instead of finding a cure medical science only found more questions. It must have been a godsend when you read that Campbell had been murdered."

"You still can't prove murder," said Hagnell. "I was on the other side of town when Campbell died. And as I said, your own detective told me it was suicide. There's nothing to indicate a murder of any kind."

"According to your own notes," said Lilly, "you told Mr. Campbell of your 'diagnosis' on March 11th: the day he came to see you. Thirteen days later he commits suicide. I don't think it will be hard for a jury to connect the dots. He committed suicide based on your diagnosis so his family would get his insurance money. For him, it must have seemed the only way out. But at least he'd be able to provide for his family. And they wouldn't have to suffer the stigma of having a husband and father who had AIDS."

"Which does not equate to murder," Hagnell insisted.

"Depraved indifference," Adair interjected.

"I beg your pardon?" questioned Hagnell.

"Depraved indifference," Adair repeated. "It's a legal term. It means that a person's conduct is so reprehensible, so lacking regard for the life or lives of another that it warrants the same criminal liability applied to is as if the person had actually committed a crime. Whether or not they actually did. Depraved indifference is about the risk created by the person's conduct, not the actual injuries themselves.

"That's what I'm going to charge you with. Depraved indifference. Murder 2. That's a minimum 25 years in prison. And with the evidence I have I have no doubt I'll get a conviction. You're going away, doctor. For the rest of your life. And I'll be at every parole hearing to see to it that you never get parole."

"Even if you should somehow not be convicted," said Polanski, "I'm going to see to it that your medical license is permanently revoked. And I will personally notify not only the American Medical Association but the medical association of every state in the country to make sure you never again practice medicine anywhere."

"It wasn't like that," Hagnell protested. "How was I to know he'd commit suicide? I just figured I could treat him for a couple of years and then he'd get better. There's no way I could have foreseen he'd kill himself."

"A happily married man with two children, a great job, and good reputation contracts a disease that only gays and drug users got?" Lilly questioned. "How could you not have known? A diagnosis of AIDS in 1983 was a virtual death sentence. There was no treatment for it, no cure, and no prevention. The man's reputation and life would have been ruined. You had to have known that he might want to end his own life rather than endure what must have seemed to him to be an agonizing, drawn out ordeal."

"And I'm willing to testify to that in court," said Polanski. "You're a doctor. A medical professional. You had to have known what affect a diagnosis like that would have on people. You said yourself you see many cases of it in your practice. So you know some people, especially back then, were more willing to end their own lives rather than suffer the humiliation and suffering from having AIDS. You had to have known he would rather die than suffer that. He put his trust in you, Doctor, and you violated that trust in the most heinous way possible."

"Depraved indifference," said Stillman. "You pushed a man to suicide so you could collect a few thousand dollars in insurance payments."

"And I'm sure once a forensic accountant is through going over your records we'll have enough to prosecute you for God only knows how many counts of insurance fraud," said Adair.

Lilly pulled out her cell phone and laid it on the table in front of Hagnell.

"Call your office," she said. "Tell then to close. You're out of business, doctor. Permanently."

Hagnell just stared at her without anything to say.

"You think this will go to trial?" Stillman asked in the squad room as Hagnell was led away to be processed.

"Probably not," said Adair. "I'm sure his lawyer will plead him out. But I guarantee you one thing. By the time Dr. Hagnell is eligible for parole he'll be too old to ever hurt anyone else every again. What I don't understand is why Sylvia Hernandez would turn Campbell's file over to you. Her name is all over the insurance documents. That implicates her as well."

"I talked to her earlier today," said Scotty, looking up from his desk. "It seemed her son was born with a genetic condition that precluded him from ever living on his own. Her husband left after he was born and she was forced to raise him on her own.

"She told me that when she found out what Hagnell was doing – scamming insurance companies – she protested it. But he convinced her that since her name was on the papers she'd go to prison, too. And there would be no one to take care of her son."

"So what changed?" Lilly asked.

"Her son died a few months ago," said Scotty. "She had decided to quit Hagnell when she learned about Campbell. And she couldn't live with the secret that she might have cost the man his life. She said it was bad enough ripping of insurance companies. But she couldn't live with causing a man's suicide."

"Sounds like she was caught in a rough situation and did her best to survive it," said Will. "It couldn't have been easy for her."

"Well," said Adair, "if she cooperates with the investigation and agrees to testify against Hagnell I can offer her immunity. If what Detective Valens says is true she was most likely an unwilling participant in Hagnell's crimes."

"I thought you said this would never go to trial?" Nick asked.

"I said it probably wouldn't go to trial," said Adair. "But I like to be prepared just in case. The stronger my case is the better the chances of a settlement."

"Just make sure he spends a good long time in prison," said Lilly. "So he can never do anything like that again to anyone."

"Don't worry, Detective Rush," said Adair. "My brother died of AIDS a few years ago. He got it from a blood transfusion during surgery. No one should have to live under that kind of threat especially someone who doesn't actually have it. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure Mr. Hagnell spends the rest of his life in prison."

"Well, Lilly, you got your why," said Stillman. "Looks like we can finally put this one to rest for good. You want to do the honors?"

"Thanks boss," said Lilly. "I think I will. And then I'll call Alexandra Campbell and let her know what her father did for her. Maybe it will help her brother accept his death easier."

"That sounds like a good idea," said Stillman.

Lilly picked up the paperwork to put back into the case box and headed for the archives room.


	12. Chapter 12

TWELVE

March 24, 1983, 7:58 p.m.

Bruce Campbell sat on a bench in Fairmont Park. The sun had all ready set and there was a light breeze blowing. Evening considering it was early December it was relatively warm out. He looked at the peaceful setting of the park. He had spent many happy hours here with his wife and family.

He looked down at the .38 Special lying on the bench next to him. The gun had actually been less expensive than he had anticipated. Of course, he had little experience with firearms. But he knew this one would do the job. As an insurance adjuster he had contact with many people who did know about firearms. His information was that this particular weapon would do the job nicely.

He thought about his wife. She had been a good wife. When they had first married he had imagined himself growing old with her. Raising their children and maybe finally getting that little house near the country they had often talked about. Now, that would never happen.

His news from Dr. Hagnell had changed all that. He knew that a diagnosis of AIDS was a virtual death sentence. Nearly everyone who got it died from it or from complications to it. He didn't know how he had contracted the disease. In fact, no one was even sure how it was spread. Some medical professionals were saying that casual contact couldn't spread the disease. But that was based mostly on speculation and supposition. There was no hard data on it.

The so-called "moral majority" was calling it a punishment from God. Since most people who had been diagnosed with it were homosexual they claimed it was God's way of punishing the gay community for its sins. And since only homosexuals had been diagnosed with the disease it stood to reason that anyone who got the disease was a homosexual.

But he wasn't. It still mystified him how he had gotten it. But no one would believe that. When it became common knowledge that he had it everyone would just assume that he was a closet gay. His reputation would be ruined. More than likely he would be fired, despite his excellent record at the company. The life savings he and his wife had been able to save would quickly be eaten up with the treatments he knew he would need. And in the end he'd die a horrible, agonizing death. His wife and children would be left to live with the stigma that he had died of AIDS.

There was only one solution open to him. He knew that AIDS treatments were expensive and largely experimental. So far, very little had worked on the disease. And despite what Dr. Hagnell had told him, he didn't believe a cure or even a treatment would be available any time soon. And he knew it was a foregone conclusion that his life insurance policy would be voided by the disease. His reputation would be ruined, his family would be in debt, most likely for the rest of their lives, and his wife would have to endure the snide remarks and snickers that would surely ensure when news of his condition got out.

But there was a way to prevent all that. He picked up the gun and handled it. It was lighter than he had expected. Cautiously he untied the five balloons that he had tied to the back of the bench. When he had tied them to the trigger guard of the pistol he let them go for just a second. Almost immediately the pistol began to sail upwards into the air. Quickly he grabbed the pistol and pulled it back down. He picked up a handful of dirt and let it slowly fall from his hand. The wind whipped the dirt around blowing in the direction of the ocean not far away.

His plan was very simple. He had been an insurance adjuster long enough to know what mistakes people made when trying to scam the insurance companies. The threatening letters he had reported were a matter of public record now. He wasn't worried that they would be discovered. When you report threatening letters to the police they never suspected that you might have written them yourself.

Once he used the pistol the balloons would carry it aloft into the upper atmosphere. They would be carried by the wind until the helium in them lost its buoyancy and the weight of the pistol would bring it back to earth. When that happened it should be out over the ocean. The gun would sink to the bottom of the ocean and be lost forever.

When his body was found they would have to rule it a homicide. Killed by a gunshot wound with no weapon found nearby. There couldn't be any other ruling. Someone had to have carried the weapon off. His wife would be able to collect on his insurance policy and his family would be taken care of for the rest of their lives. A more noble death than dying of "the queer disease".

Her would miss his wife and children most of all. All the plans they had made that would never be. But financially his wife wouldn't have to worry. And she was still relatively young, only 31 years old. And very beautiful. She would easily remarry and find happiness with someone else.

Yes, the plan was as perfect as he could make it. He looked at the gun again. He wasn't sure he would have the courage to go through with hit. Someone once called suicide a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Well, that was not always the case. His problem was very permanent. And this was the only viable solution.

He looked at the finger where his wedding band usually sat. The ring was not there now, of course. If this was to be ruled a robbery gone bad he had to make sure nothing of value was found on the body. His jewelry, watch, and wallet had been carefully buried in a part of the park that was rarely used. The one part of the plan he couldn't work out was the gunshot residue that would be on his hand. That would show that he had fired a gun recently. But there was no way to prevent getting the residue on his hand.

Still, it seemed a minor consideration. With no weapon found nearby the case couldn't be ruled a suicide. It would simply appear that he had struggle with his assailant and had gotten the residue on his hand when the gun had gone off. At least, he hoped that's what would happen. He couldn't think of any other scenario that would account for the residue.

He looked around the park to make sure he was alone. He had to be alone. If someone heard the shot and arrived too quickly they might see the gun floating away. Then all of his planning would be for nothing.

Nothing but the breeze moved in the park. He could hear cars on the road to the Southwest but they would be too far away to notice anything. And the balloons would carry the gun high into the sky, quickly disappearing into the darkness above where they would go unnoticed until they reached the ocean.

Yes, the plan was nearly perfect. But he had a very small window of opportunity. Very soon he would begin to exhibit symptoms of the disease. If that happened all of his plans would be wasted. He said a silent prayer, told his wife he loved her, and then with all the strength he could muster put the muzzle of the pistol to his right temple and pulled the trigger.

The balloons floated lazily in the sky above the park as Campbell's body lay below. The wind carried the pistol toward the ocean. Suddenly the balloons were caught in an updraft and they bounced around erratically for several moments. Then the wind changed and the balloons began to float slowly to the Southwest.

They floated for several hours until the helium lost its buoyancy and was no longer able to support the weight of the gun. Silently the gun dropped from the sky, eventually becoming entangled in the branches of a large oak tree. One by one the balloons began to burst, punctured by sharp branches from the tree. Eventually all the balloons had burst leaving the gun dangling virtually unnoticeably in some branches near the top of the tree. The gun would hang there for 17 until the weather had rotted the strings tied to it causing it to drop to the yard below.

Lilly walked in and handed her report on the Bruce Campbell case to Stillman. He took it and glanced it over once, knowing that it would be her usual excellent work. With Dr. Hagnell's confession earlier that morning – and his office closing permanently – they need never worry again that he might be responsible for another unnecessary death.

"It's all in there," said Lilly. "Should be enough to close the case and put Hagnell away forever."

"Good work," replied Stillman. "Adair called me a few minutes ago. He said Hagnell's lawyer is all ready talking deal. But he'll be going away for a good long time."

"I, uh, called Gerald Smith at the insurance company to let him know what happened," said Lilly. "He said that they won't be going after Campbell's children for the money they paid out on Campbell's death. They're going after Hagnell. The way he figures it, Hagnell was the one that cost them five hundred grand. So Alexandra and her brother won't have to worry about any legal problems from the insurance company."

"That's good to hear," said Stillman. "They've had enough grief in their lives. It's about time they were allowed to get past it."

"Lieutenant Stillman?"

They both looked up to see a uniformed officer standing in the door to Stillman's office. Lilly recognized him as one of the officers that was usually on duty at the front desk. Behind him was a man dressed in what appeared to be a very old suit and who appeared to be about Stillman's age. Lilly recognized the man. It was Thaddeus Fischer, the convict who had been released just that morning.

In the squad room beyond Lilly could see Nick, Will, and Scotty all standing by their desks. She knew that each one was ready to move on a moment's notice should Fischer try anything. Involuntarily her hand went to her weapon.

"This gentleman asked to speak to you, sir," said the uniformed officer. "I thought it best if I escorted him up here myself."

"Thank you, officer," said Stillman nervously. "You can return to the front desk now."

The officer looked at Fischer for a moment and then turned and left the office. Lilly saw him stop next to Nick's desk and stood there looking at Fischer.

"Officer Stillman," said Fischer. His hands were folded in front of him.

"It's lieutenant now, Fischer," said Stillman. "This is Detective Rush."

"Detective," said Fischer, acknowledging Lilly's present.

"I see you remember me, Lieutenant," said Fischer. "Twenty-five years is a long time. I'm sure I've changed in that time. So have you."

"What do you want, Fischer?" Stillman asked, still suspicious of the man.

"Well, first of all, they frisked me at the front desk," said Fischer. "So you can rest assured I'm not armed. Considering what happened at my trial 25 years ago, I can't really say I blame you for that."

"That wasn't my call," said Stillman. "I guess they just thought it was prudent."

"Of course," said Fischer. "During my trial you provided the most damning evidence against me. The jury said later that it was because of your testimony that they convicted me."

"I know," said Stillman. "I told the truth on the stand. You didn't seem to like it."

"Oh, I didn't," said Fischer. "And I said some things, too. I threatened you. You, the judge, the DA, and the jury foreman, if I remember correctly. I swore I'd get you if it was the last thing I ever did. And believe me, I meant it. I had every intention of getting out and paying you back for what you did to me."

"Meant?" questioned Lilly.

"That's right, Detective, meant," said Fischer. "For a long time I sat in my cell and fumed over my conviction. I was planning every way I could think of to hurt you as much as I could. Then one day I got a visitor. The last person I ever expected to see."

"Who?" questioned Stillman.

"The wife of the man I killed," said Fischer.

"You always proclaimed your innocence even when we had you dead to rights," said Stillman.

"I know," said Fischer. "And I continued to proclaim it even after I was in prison. Then, like I said, the man's wife visited me. I expected to meet with a hurt, angry, vindictive woman who wished me to rot in hell. Well, she was hurt. And I guess a little angry. But she was far from the vindictive person I expected."

"Go on," said Stillman.

"Well she said the strangest thing to me," said Fischer. "She said, 'I forgive you.' That's all. I forgive you. And I could tell she meant it. I didn't know what to say. I had murdered her husband in cold blood for nothing more than about $15.00. Oh, that part I was telling the truth about. He only had $15.00 on him at the time, not the $173.00 the police claimed he had."

"That was the information we were given," said Stillman.

"It doesn't really matter," said Fischer. "The amount is unimportant. The fact is, I did kill that man. Just as you testified. And for the same reasons you testified. And I know you told the absolute truth on the stand. Can't say the jury was wrong in convicting me. I'd probably have done the same thing."

"So why are you here now?" Lilly asked. "You served your sentence. The parole board let you out. Why come back here now?"

"To set some things straight, Detective," said Fischer. He turned to Stillman. "I can't explain why but those three words – I forgive you – ate at me for weeks. I didn't understand it. No one did anything for anyone without some ulterior motive. Something to be gained. At least, that's what I thought.

"Eventually I began to realize that there were some people in the world who did things without any thought of gain or reward. Good, decent people who tried to be the best they could and not take advantage of anyone else. It was quite an eye opener for me. I'd never known anyone like that before. Actually meeting one was, well, unnerving to say the least."

"If I remember right," said Stillman, "I mentioned something to that effect when I was questioning you once."

"Yes you did," said Fischer. "And you were right. Before too long I began to realize that the only thing I cared about was myself. That the only thing that motivated me was what I could get from someone else. Then here comes this woman and tells me she forgives me for taking her husband away from her. And all she wanted was to let me know that.

"I talked with the prison chaplain a lot about it. And the prison shrink, too. This woman had lost her husband for no good reason and yet she seemed to be at peace. I didn't understand it. I guess maybe I still don't completely. But I did know one thing. That was something I wanted. Only I didn't know how to get it."

"So you found religion?" Lilly questioned.

"No, Detective, I didn't find religion," said Fischer, smiling slightly. "I've seen too many of those so-called 'prison conversions' to put any stock in them. Some few are real. But too many are simply for show. So they can get out. I've not been born again or anything like that. I simply learned that if I wanted to get out of prison and stay out, I'd had to make some changes."

"Is that why you're here?" Stillman asked.

"Yes," said Fischer. Cautiously he reached up and pulled a piece of paper out of his coat pocket. Every officer in the room outside tensed as he reached into his coat. He handed the paper to Stillman. "This is something you asked me for a long time ago. Something I said you'd get when hell froze over."

Stillman took the paper, unfolded it, and looked at it. A look of surprise crossed his face. He looked up at Fischer.

"This is a confession," he said. "About the night you killed that man."

"That's right," said Fischer. "You said if I confessed it would go easier on me. I didn't believe you at the time. But I felt it was time to set the record straight. To finally tell the truth."

"I don't know what to say," said Stillman. "After 25 years this is the last thing I ever expected."

"I know," said Fischer. "I also want to let you know I'm sorry for the things I said in court that day. You did the right thing. Maybe if I had been a little less angry I might have seen that. I also wanted to thank you. You put me in prison and I have no doubt that saved my life. If you hadn't, I would probably have ended up dead in an alleyway like Jerome Harper."

"Who?" questioned Lilly.

"Jerome Harper," repeated Fischer. "The man I killed."

"I must admit," said Stillman, "I was apprehensive when I heard you were going to be released. I still remember that day in court. And I had no doubt you meant every word you said."

"As I said, I did mean it," said Fischer. "Then. Twenty-five years can change a man. For me, I hope it's been a change for the better. I can't bring back Jerome Harper or undo what I did. All I can do is try to make up for it somehow, if only in some small way."

He held out his hand to Stillman.

"Considering everything that happened," he said, "I really couldn't blame you if you slapped it away. All I can say is I'm sorry and maybe in the future you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

Stillman looked at the hand for a moment. The he reached out and shook the man's hand firmly.

"I guess everyone deserves a second chance," said Stillman. "The law says you've paid your debt to society. And prisons are supposed to rehabilitate those sent to them. I guess maybe sometimes it works."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," said Fischer. "Well, I should be going. I have an appointment with the judge in a couple of hours. And the DA on the case is retired but he's still around. I still have a lot of apologies to make and fences to mend."

"What are you going to do now that you're out?" Lilly asked.

"My parole officer has an interview lined up with me to work with a group that tries to help wayward kids," said Fischer. "Maybe what I went through can help keep some kid from taking the same path. Even if I can help only a few at least maybe what I went through will actually have some worthwhile benefits to it. Goodbye, Lieutenant. I'm glad I was able to set things right with you."

"Good luck to you," said Stillman.

"Boy, that was tense for a moment," said Nick as the others filed into the lieutenant's officer after Fischer had left. "We weren't sure what was going to happen."

"Neither was I," said Stillman.

"We saw you shake his hand," said Will. "What happened in here?"

"Sometimes the system works, old friend," said Stillman. "Sometimes the system works."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Scotty asked.

"Come on," said Lilly. "I'll explain it to you over lunch. And this time it's your turn to buy."

"Great," said Scotty, a half smirk on his face. "I know this place that serves the best polish sausage in town."

Stillman just smiled as Lilly and Scotty left his office. He felt better than he had for the past couple of days.

The End

If you've enjoyed this story, you can find more "Cold Case" stories at my website, Creative Passions, listed in my bio. You can also post your own "Cold Case" stories or other stories if you like to write fan fiction.


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